


Our Promise Beneath the Cherry Blossom Trees

by RuskaSky



Category: Naruto
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Bonding, Bounty Hunter!Sasuke, Comfort, Doctor!Sakura, Drama, Emotional Healing, F/M, Friendship, Hate to Love, Humor, Jiraiya x Tsunade, NaruHina - Freeform, NejiTen - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, SasuSaku - Freeform, ShikaTema, Suigetsu x Karin, alternative universe, tragic past
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 15:08:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10516227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuskaSky/pseuds/RuskaSky
Summary: Sasuke.The name resonated within her mind. For a moment, Sakura's world seemed to spin, and she fought the urge to hold on to something. Her heart ached, and she pressed the clipboard closer to her chest. Unknown, yet strangely familiar images floated before her mind's eye, flashing so quickly she could not quite put them together.[AU]





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is the new, edited version of "Our Promise Beneath the Cherry Blossom Trees". After receiving so much support and interest for this idea, I gave it all a good, long thought and decided to work out the flaws, plotholes and shortcomings present in the outdated version. Since the changes were too big and needed to be represented in every chapter, I decided that simply updating, adding to and replacing the old version will not do. Hence, the new story. If you followed me all the way from my first version, I want to thank you very much for putting up with this. I promise it is the last major change; the outline is so tight and thorough that it cannot go wrong anymore. Also a huge shoutout to my beloved beta reader NagareboshiStar, who helps me at any moment and supported me to pull through with this update, rather than throwing it all into the trash. It is also thanks to her that you can read this bittersweet tale. Without further ado, I hope you will enjoy the update!

He looked back at the village that had been his home for nineteen years. Within his chest, feelings of hope battled with anguish, boiling and twisting and clenching tightly enough to make him bite his lip. Was he doing the right thing? Was there truly no other way? And where were these feelings of doubt coming from, so suddenly? It was not like him. The bag he had shouldered felt heavy, unnaturally so, and the darkness that engulfed the lit housings, almost hidden beneath trees and rocks, was like a reflection of his own heart. Tightening his jaws, he tried to reassure himself that it _was_ the right choice. His only choice.

After all, it was not like he was to turn his back forever. One day, he would come back, to meet with her once again. They had made a promise, and he was not a man to break his – and she was not a woman to break hers.

The thought comforted him, albeit a little. He drew a deep breath and averted his dark eyes from the place no longer home to him, turning his night-clad back. Before him waited the world, waited his true calling. Waited freedom.

He did not know that freedom came with a price.

She held her hands tightly clasped, close to her shaking chest, suppressing the sobs echoing in the quietude of her guarding bedroom. At least she had managed not to cry in front of him. At least she had managed to wish him well. Petals of the cherry blossom trees were still stuck to her clothing, but she had not brought it over herself to brush them off just yet. They were the reminder of this night, the most important one in her young life. A night she would never forget. Filled with words meant for their ears only.

A teary smile sent ripples through her grief-stricken face. Yes, she believed in those sweet words, that beautiful future he had pictured – he, the man who always hid his true intentions behind a facade only she and a select few were able to look past. He had let those walls down a few times before, but never as completely as just a few moments back, never as bravely, and the metal in her palm burned.

It was a secret to be kept within her aching chest until the time was right. Until they were reunited again, on a day to come in the not too distant future. If she believed this strongly enough, then surely it would become truth. She just had to be strong.

She did not know that strength would not be enough.


	2. Her Duty as a Doctor

Sakura's eyes squinted in concentration at the image of the laparoscope to her right. Slowly, she adjusted the angle of her instrument, turning the long, fine needle past the colon to the organ of interest, the swollen appendix. Under the high resolution camera and the inflated stomach, she could clearly make out the redness and swelling of that little pouch. She guided her instrument towards it.

"Careful now, Haruno-kun." Shizune's voice was mechanical, her address formal, and her hands always raised so she could step in at any given moment. "Lay the scissors around the juncture. Yes. Now, disconnect."

Sakura followed the instructions a second before they reached her ear. After reassuring herself of the exact position of the blades, she cut, then quickly used the instrument in her other hand to stitch it close. As another heartbeat pumped through her patient's body without any blood trickling from the closure, she sighed. Minding every pull and turn, she twisted the instruments and the little severed pouch from the small incisions next to the navel, then removed the laparoscope. Her eyes rose to meet Shizune's vigilant observation.

The surgeon nodded. "Well done. All that's left is the stitching." She assisted the young doctor through verbal commands alone, made sure that the thread was laid so thinly and closely that the scar – _if_ one was to be left behind in the first place – would be visually imperceptible. Then she called two nurses to deport the sleeping patient and turned to the woman opposite from her, emerald eyes alert and sparkling. And finally, Shizune smiled. "And that concludes your tenth appendectomy, I believe? Really, when will Tsunade-sama allow you to do these on your own?"

"I don't think _she's_ the one holding back," Sakura said with a smirk behind the mask. "But laws are laws. It's a miracle the curators are even allowing me to operate in the first place."

Strictly speaking, it was no miracle. Every certified doctor was technically allowed to perform surgeries of any kind. This was especially vital for emergencies, where a qualified surgeon was not always on hand. The legal liability, however, turned this matter into a rather complicated one, and hospital's curators generally did not like seeing any doctor whittle around inside of a patient who could very well and successfully sue them in case of failure. So usually, surgeries were strictly reserved to those qualified to perform them, and Sakura could count the doctors in Konoha hospital who were allowed to anyway on one hand. Even the bad hand of a surgeon.

She shook her head. "If it all went according to Tsunade-sama, I would probably be a deputy already."

Now, Shizune laughed. She guided the young doctor out of the operation room. "Well, with your skill, certainly. Twenty-nine, already a fully-fledged internist since half a year and on your way to acquire an additional schooling for surgery. Who knows," she added with a chuckle as they washed their hands, "maybe Tsunade-sama _is_ holding back. So you don't overshadow her as the youngest, most beautiful head physician in Japan's history."

Sakura joined in on the laughter, combing through her pink bob with loose fingers. "Do I hear a hint of jealousy in those words, _auntie_?"

The raven-haired woman tried to put up a serious face. She really did. She even crossed her arms, raised a subtle eyebrow and scrunched her nose. But then, a snort broke through her tight lips and her eyes squinted as she swatted her hand. "Out of my sight, Haruno-kun. Off to the head nurse with you." She could not help but to wink before she took a turn in the opposite direction.

Sakura looked after her mentor with a smile before she made her way away from the operation wing across white, pristine corridors to the main building, greeting her fellow doctors and assistants with a nod of her head. ' _Fellow' doctors_ , she could not help but think proudly.

A scent of disinfectant hung in the air, and the ticking of clocks and clacking of heels were just as common a sound as coughs from patients' rooms. At first, it had unnerved her: waking up every day to meet with the sickly, hearing their sounds of pain and illness, catching whiffs of the odors that rose from their ailment-stricken bodies. But it was not the worst. The worst was the look on their faces, empty and hopeless; the despair and pain within their kin's eyes. To endure those expressions, to remain strong and positive despite them was what had taken Sakura the longest. And at times, feelings of insecurity and worry came back to haunt her even still.

Luckily, her latest patient would not trouble her in that respect. _Akiyama-san might be a lady in her more… refined years, but it was a routine surgery. No intricacies. In the worst case, Shizune would have interfered._

She remembered their conversation with a silent chuckle. Even if she tried, she could hardly remember the last time she needed help from another doctor or surgeon. Maybe during medical school? Those two years, usually four for the average student, had gone by in a breeze. She had spent every waking moment – and some of her supposedly sleeping ones, too – learning, revising, studying, memorizing, imbibing, perusing. And thanks to certain connections, she had had the opportunity to attend and even assist with medical procedures in the hospital from the very beginning. While this had been indubitably an advantage, Sakura and everyone around her knew she did not need to credit her success to this factor.

Up in reminiscing thoughts, she almost bumped into the nurses' counter and caught herself with a quick side step. "Hi, Yoneda-san," she greeted the head nurse who had only given a brief smile before continuing to sort through files. "The surgery was a success. Akiyama-san is being brought to room 401 as we speak. I'm about to go home, unless..?"

The word hovered in the air, and the brunette before her interrupted her work to glance at a sheet, only to shake her head, the bun on top of it wobbling with bustling efficiency. "No 'unless', Haruno-sensei. There head been an emergency earlier, but Senju-sensei took care of it. I haven't had a nurse complaining or reporting any peculiarities, either." Yoneda smiled, despite the dark circles beneath her forest green eyes. "In any case, eleven hours should be enough work for one day, I believe. So go home before someone shouts for you after all."

A grin appeared on Sakura's slim face, lifting the exhausted corners of her mouth. "If you say so, I will not resist. Thanks, Yoneda-san."

The brunette had already turned away, checking a list a bypassing – rather by-running – nurse had handed her with a frown. But at Sakura's voice, she lifted her head once again and flashed a smile.

Sakura bowed once before she took her leave, walking towards the ladies' changing rooms. Some people preferred to shower at home, but she would not spend another minute in her sweaty state, not if she could help it. The water that beat down from the shower head felt like relief, washing away dirt and fatigue alike. Heat opened her pores and Sakura was well inclined to spend hours beneath the cleansing rain. But hunger made her turn off the supply and get dressed. _I'll reward myself with a nice soup once I'm home._

Before the hospital's vitreous exit, Sakura stopped and turned her head back. _Mom is still up in her office, working without a break._ A shadow crossed her lime-colored oculars, tinting their pigmentation almost forest-green. Unknowingly, she bit her lip. _Should I go up and force her to rest? The head of the hospital, and yet she always overexerts herself..._ Her lips parted for the smallest of sighs and Sakura gave her cheeks a firm slap. _Enough of that! If Mom notices I'm worried, she'll only work harder._

 _But what she can do, I can do so all the more!_ Sakura conjured up a smile and stepped through the slide doors into the May air. A deep breath filled her lungs with warmth, her eyes squinted at the horizon tinted in the fading hues of red and orange. It was getting late, and she still had a lot on her plate. On her trustworthy bicycle, a neat and vibrant vehicle rivaling the dusk's color palette, she targeted the supermarket on her long ride home.

"Welcome, dear costumer!" the vendor called monotonously as soon as the bell chimed, but once his eyes caught her figure, they widened and a truer smile appeared on his face. "My, if it isn't Haruno-sensei! Good day to you. Don't tell me you were working up until now?"

Sakura nodded. "Just about to head home for some soup. And good day to you, Anzai-san."

"No way!" The man's mouth was agape. "But Nagisa-chan told me you came by the shop this morning at four, on your way to work?" He whistled when Sakura nodded upon the implied question. "Being a doctor must be tough. Ah, anyway" - he clapped his hands, the mercantile grin spreading his auburn beard - "you wanted to make soup, you say? Then let me recommend the savoy cabbage; came in freshly this morning, still dew on its packaging! It's on offer, in aisle five."

He had not lied about the dew, Sakura noted, inspecting the various items with a critical eye. _This one has a bump._ Another one did the job better and was admitted into her pouch. One by one, Sakura picked up the ingredients for her dinner, then made her way through the maze of aisles back to the counter.

"Haruno-sensei?" a voice called for her just as she was unloading her purchase. Sakura turned to see an elderly lady walk up to her, the face wrinkled in a smile. "It is you, Haruno-sensei. My, it is so good to see you. How are you doing? And your mother, is she alright, with all the hospital work? I hardly see you two anymore."

"Eguchi-sama," Sakura greeted, shifting her body to face the other more directly. "It's good to see you, too. Both my mother and I are fine, thank you. It's true, the hospital keeps us busy," - she pointed at the hospital bag, filled with a lunch box and some books - "but it's rewarding work."

The elderly put a hand on her cheek. "My, Haruno-sensei. Both you and Senju-sensei are _so_ diligent. The people of Konoha are truly blessed to have such amazingly dedicated doctors. You could go anywhere with your talent, and yet chose to stay in this humble town."

"Don't say that." Sakura counted the money from her blossom-shaped purse and placed it in Anzai's offered hand. "My mother and I love Konoha and its people. We wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Speaking of which; are you free one of these days? I'm sure we would find time for some coffee and cake."

The proposal was received with a bright face and a bow. "Oh, that would be fantastic, Haruno-sensei. If you'd like, you could come to my house; it is always a pleasure to have you there. I will invite my grandchild, Masaru. He's a wonderful man, just finished law school. I'm sure you would get along well."

"A-ah, yes, of course." Sakura suddenly had troubles keeping her smile up. She gathered her purchase in her bag and bowed to both vendor and acquaintance. "If you will excuse me, I have to get home so I can cook dinner. I will call you soon, Eguchi-sama. Until next time, Anzai-san." With a wave of her hand, she turned on her heel and fled rather hurriedly.

The further she got, the more she furrowed her brows. Finally, she heaved a sigh that was no effect from the strenuous ride. _Eguchi-sama... It's a nice thought of you and all, but I seriously,_ seriously _don't need a man in my life right now._ She tried to play through a day in her life, imagining how it would be if she had a boyfriend – but there was little and less time in between work, sleep, sports, the few hobbies she allowed herself to have and the already limited time she spent with her friends.

Sakura shook her head. She really had no time for that. _And not much of a want, either,_ she added as she fastened her grip on the bag. An evening filled with cooking and reading was more than enough to make her content.

When silence was the only sound to greet her as she entered her apartment, Sakura felt at ease rather than lonely. After dropping off everything at its place she started cooking, her fingers working the kitchen knife just as well as the scalpel, and heaps of vegetables piled up on the cutting board effortlessly. But when it was time to add the spices, Sakura spent quite a while with a concentrated frown. Finally she gave an insecure shrug and just dumped a bit of this – maybe a bit _too_ much of this – and another bit of that into her pot. The aroma that filled the air and made her sweat was pleasant enough, yet she held her hopes low until she sat down and raised the spoon to her lips.

The grimace came as quickly and expectedly as always. _Too much salt._ There was too much of a lot of other things as well, but the salt was so overpowering that Sakura could not name them. Flapping her tongue like a cat, she carried the already heavy pot over to the sink and added gallons of water. Peering down into it, her meal now consisted of nine parts liquid and one part vegetables, but she just shrugged at that. _At least I don't have to cook the next couple of days._

After this rather adventurous cooking and eating session, which did not feel that adventurous to her by now, Sakura swapped her outdoor clothing for a light top and some baggy shorts and settled herself in her cozy chair. Her right knee raised almost to her chest and one foot dangling off the arm rest, Sakura homely continued her read of the crime thriller she had started during lunch, chuckling at the incorrect remarks from the forensics.

Earlier than it suited a woman of her age did she close the book and turned off the lights. With her feet more trudging than walking across the floor, she entered the bedroom and snuggled into her feather bed, the thin blanket loosely covering her kidneys. Mentally passing through the day, she counted her blessings in her head until sleep embraced her lovingly.

* * *

When what felt like just a second later her pager rang, Sakura managed to keep her discontent grumbling to a minimum. Slowly, she placed the object before her squinting eyes, crust peeling open. _An emergency? No, not quite,_ she realized as she read on. _Understaffed._ And of course _she_ was on standby. She glanced at the clock and was surprised to see that it read two hours after her falling into bed. _Doesn't feel like that, though..._ She rubbed her heavy eyelids, then jumped from her bed with a curse. Despite her legs being filled with figurative stones – or lead – she managed to stomp over to her closet so loudly that the neighbor below awoke. Not that she knew, or cared, especially when her hair and arms entangled themselves in the sleeves of her working clothes.

" _Shannaro!_ " she bellowed, pushing through with a grim face that stayed even as she entered the small kitchen, hitting her elbow on the door frame in the process. Her mouth managed to remain a line despite munching on a slice of toast, lightly buttered and too heavily salted. And when she tore open her front door and a drizzle greeted her, she was not even surprised.

In the middle of the night, she fought her way to the hospital, through the dark she hated so much. Fifteen minutes in, she remembered her bicycle, locked safely and uselessly in the cellar beneath the apartment complex, and she grunted an unladylike profanity.

 _Why can't it be an emergency? Then I could go in, save them, and jump back into my bed until my shift starts,_ she thought quite grumpily, waiting at the next bus station with skipping feet. _What are those idiots thinking, calling in sick all of a sudden, ruining my precious sleep!? If I find the one responsible for this..._ Her expression darkened as she came up with an abundant amount of ways to torture that certain someone until they never even _thought_ of skipping their work again.

Judging by the nurses' looks, she still wore her mood on her face when she finally arrived, tired and irritable and covered in sweat and drops. A young one approached her, oblivious to her aura, and chimed, "Why, hello Haruno-sensei. I could've sworn I saw you just some hours ago. Did you forget something?"

Sakura sent her a glare that could have stopped a bull in its tracks. "Yeah," she answered slowly, pressing forth every word between her teeth, "to display what happens when you neglect your duty."

Suddenly, the young woman had a serious matter to attend to and hurriedly left the vicinity, most likely wishing she could leave the hospital as well. Another nurse had a better feeling for Sakura's state and offered the sleep-deprived doctor a cup of black coffee. Sakura accepted and downed the drink in one go, barely noticing the bitterness tightening her throat. "I'm in the mess," she let the other one know and made her way to the small room where she could throw herself onto an unstable bunk-bed, dozing until she was required to work.

When she awoke six hours later, Sakura was not sure whether she was happy no one had needed her, or aggravated beyond compare. At almost seven in the morning, it was but one hour before her scheduled shift started, so going back home was as pointless as it was wistful.

Sakura drank the nth cup of coffee, forcing her system to spin into action again despite herself, grumbling into her beverage with dark eyes. _I could have stayed at home, laying cozily in my soft and peaceful bed. No matter what they claim, the mess' beds are not_ _comfortable to sleep in!_ A fellow doctor crossed her path, his smile dying quickly when Sakura only glared at him. As he hurried away, she sighed to herself. _Well, it's surely not his fault I was called for nothing. Still, if I find out_ whose _fault it is, then..._

The balled fist relaxed when she accepted the fact that it would change nothing. It was her week of stand-by, someone had felt too sick to work and she had jumped in because it was her duty. Of course, she could have lied and claimed herself to be sick as well, but Sakura was not that type of person, and she much rather sacrificed her sleep and comfort if it meant for her to aid patients in need faster. And still, letting go of that for naught unnerved her, even more so with yet _another_ twelve hour shift waiting for her.

 _Where's all that complaining coming from?_ Sakura wondered with the softest shake of her heavy head. It felt oddly numb. _It's either the lack of sleep or overdose of caffeine._ Accordingly, she dumped her drink in the nearest garbage can, as much as she wanted to hold on to it.

She would not waste her day fretting. Conjuring up a smile, she received the first patient's file from one of the nurses, but her expression faded when she read the name. The sigh left her lips without a warning and she found herself shaking her head while mumbling, "Seriously, him _again_?"

* * *

At least _his_ face was all bright and smiles when Sakura entered the room. His blue eyes almost invisible behind all the squinting, he beamed his white teeth at her and lifted his left arm eagerly, the right lying at a rather awkward angle next to him. "Yo, Sakura-chan!"

"Really, Naruto?" Sakura ignored the suffix as she had done for almost ten years now and approached him with a stern frown. She heaved another sigh, then waved at him with his file. "You do realize you have been here five times already, don't you? Are you trying to break your record or what?"

"Now, don't be angry, Sakura-chan," Naruto laughed, scratching the back of his spiky haired head with his sound hand. "It's not like I do it on purpose or anything..."

"Oh, you better not," Sakura growled, cracking her knuckles. "If I find out all of this is some prank of yours and you're wasting my time for a laugh, I'll whoop your ass so hard you'll beg for mercy. I'll make that" - she jerked her head at his injury - "seem like a blessing. Understood?"

Now, the grin faded and Naruto gulped visibly. He half-rose from his stationary bed and said, "Oi, oi, Sakura-chan! I said it's not on purpose, didn't I? I'm really hurt, I tell you'ttebayo!" As if on cue, he winced and sat back with a pant, shooting his right arm a glance.

"Just what am I supposed to do with you..." Yet when she inspected her friend's damage, a serious look of concern struck across her face. After some tapping and careful bending, accompanied by gasps of Naruto, she finally said, "It's probably broken."

"Whaat?!" Naruto shouted into her ear and she was quick to smack the back of his skull, prompting him to hold on to the surely building bump. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Keep your voice low, this is a hospital, for damn's sake!" Sakura bellowed, conveniently ignoring the noise of her own. "If you're so keen on bothering me with your constant injuries all the time, at least leave the rest here alone, will you?"

Naruto grumbled something Sakura could not quite catch – though a part of her figured it was better that way. With his lips pursed in a childish pout, he inquired, "Are you sure, Sakura-chan? About my arm being broken?" When his doctor gave a half-nod, his shoulders dropped. "Aw man, that can't be. How am I supposed to train with a broken arm?"

"You don't," was Sakura's simple response. She slapped Naruto's head before he could let out a second cry of dismay. "Maybe you should take it as a hint and drop the ninjutsu-training for a while if all you do is getting hurt..."

"I don't!" Naruto had raised his voice without a care for Sakura's threatening fists. His cerulean oculars were practically on fire as he said, "I'm making progress – even Kakashi-sensei says so! Ninjutsus are my passion and I will _never_ stop, not even if it costs me my arms and legs." A look of determination crossed his face. "If I can't use my right arm, then I'll train my left to be twice as strong! I will become the greatest martial artist there ever was and I will _never_ go back on my words – that is my way of the ninja, dattebayo!"

 _There he goes again,_ Sakura thought, though an impressed smile tugged at the corners of her lips nonetheless as she looked at Naruto's suddenly straightened posture. _Always goofing around, but once ninjutsu comes into play, he's fired up like no one else. Talk about commitment._

On the outside, she hid those feelings of admiration, if only to keep himself from further injuries. With a seemingly uncaring sigh, she said, "Whatever _that's_ supposed to mean. But if that's what you're so set on, I won't stop you. Still, let's x-ray that arm of yours first, okay? Maybe it's just dislocated."

As soon as Sakura had palliated her tone and outlook, Naruto's face lit up, his grin spreading the six whisker-like scars on his cheeks. The mere sight made Sakura reminisce, for it had been almost nine years ago that he had fallen off a tree and hurt himself so oddly that the reminders of his failure were plastered onto his face forever, and in a convenient shape as that on top. Paired with his hot temper and liking for orange clothing, it had earned him the nickname 'the fox' by his friends.

 _Though it certainly has little to do with his mental abilities –_ that's _for sure._ A smile snuck on Sakura's lovely face, and this time she allowed it. The expression spread into a grin when she received the results of his scan and she announced cheerfully, "Seems like you're lucky once more, Naruto: It's just a sprain."

"Oh yeah!" Naruto raised his fists in the air and yelled triumphantly. "I knew it! What do you say to that, huh?"

"Congrats?" Sakura's voice bore more than the hint of sarcasm, but her friend did not seem to notice, or care. He was too full of energy and relief, already blabbering about resuming his training the next day. That was when Sakura grabbed him by the collar, scolding, "Listen up, wanna-be-ninja. That arm is not broken – _yet_. If you continue training so recklessly, it soon is, so instead of rushing into the next training session, you'd better rest."

When Naruto gave her a rebellious squint of his eyes, she added, "I say this as your friend; not just your doctor, Naruto."

The blond hot-head sighed and nodded, still sulking. "Yeah, yeah, I got it'ttebayo." But as he lifted his eyes, Sakura saw gratitude glistening within the pools of blue. He let her usher him back into his bed, stripping to his waist so she could access the arm better. When she placed her hands on his shoulder, he hissed. "I hate this..."

She could not help but grin. "Oh, come on, Naruto. This should be a common procedure to you by now; how many times have I relocated your right arm now?"

"Ten times," Naruto responded surprisingly quickly. "And seven times the left one. And it still hurts like hell every time."

"Well, then be more – _careful_!" she advised, pushing at the according points so the limb sprung back into its joint. Naruto let out a brief scream. Sakura pat his back, then evaded just in time before a sudden hug engulfed her in the man's arms.

Naruto pouted, arms curling around empty air. "Come on, Sakura-chan. We're friends."

"Yes, friends," Sakura repeated. She disliked this. " _Just_ friends, Naruto." She refrained from rolling her eyes when Naruto blabbered something about his 'sincere feelings' and instead turned to the door. "Well, you can go home now. Please try not to come again, at least not so soon. Maybe I should teach Kakashi-sensei how to relocate limbs and joints, it would save me some trouble." When her patient and friend protested loudly, she allowed for a chuckle.

It was the last one for many hours. A series of emergencies flooded the hospital, having Sakura rush from one room to the next, her feet hurting and her head throbbing from all the concentration she was forced to work up. She regretted not having finished her final coffee. Her shift got prolonged by two hours, and even when she was allowed to leave she had to dodge several interns looking for help on how to install a catheter or other similarly trivial matters. Skipping her usual shower, Sakura almost fled from the hospital, feeling exhausted and drained.

For the second time that day, she lamented the absence of her bike. Not only were her muscles stiff and sore and her head spinning, it was _still_ raining. To top it off, there seemed to be difficulties pertaining the public transport, leaving her no choice but to _walk_ the route that usually took her forty minutes per bicycle. Her hair was drenched in a mixture of rain and sweat, and she had to squint her eyes to see despite the burning sensation. _What a day... All I want to do is get home and take a shower. Screw that,_ Sakura added as she kicked a lonesome pebble away, _I'll take a_ bath.

Just as she contemplated wasting money on a taxi, a violent coughing startled her. On instinct, Sakura stopped and whipped her head around, locating the source of the worrisome sound to be the dark, narrow alleyway to her right. She frowned. Konoha was a decent place, yet the occasional thug and drug addict loitered around as well – and said alleyway seemed like _just_ the perfect place for those people. She strained to listen, but when no further sound reached her ears, she almost laughed at her own silliness. _I really need to get home; I'm hearing things._

So she thought, but then the coughing occurred once again – this time paired with the distinct sound of _something_ splattering onto the ground – and Sakura found herself turning back towards the alley, hurrying inside with a heavily beating heart. "Hello?" Her voice echoed from the dirty walls, but another hack was her only answer. Her stomach curled up, hot and worried. Without much of a thought, she increased her speed and dashed around a corner, her fingers fumbling for the wall to stabilize herself in order to stare at the sight in front of her.

Curling on the ground hunched a man with wild, raven hair. His black clothes were torn and stained and his knees covered in a shining liquid, unidentifiable beneath the rain and dark. He groaned, moving forward inch by inch, his head almost scraping the ground. A gurgling cough went through his body, and even the hand pressed before his mouth could not hide the blood surging out.

Dropping her belongings, Sakura rushed towards the stranger and knelt beside him. "Calm down, I'm a doctor. Stay still so I can inspect you. What has happened?" The words left her mouth easily; they were routine, a trained one, at least, and her hands were steady as she tried to hold the wounded one.

The man flung his arm at her, the back of his hand slapped her cheek. Sakura cursed internally, and a grim look crossed her face as she watched him struggle against her for a moment. _Then I'll do it the hard way._

While making sure not to use too much pressure she took hold of his hand, gave it a martial twist and turned him to the side. As his torso became visible for her, a gasp left her mouth. What she had first believed to be simply torn clothing from a homeless person were the entrance and emergence points of several bullets, paired with long cuts that must have been slashed across his body multiple times.

 _He was attacked._ The thought came rather rationally to her, without any form of terror. Her brain felt like it was on ice. She was used to the sight of injured people, being exposed to it on a daily basis, but this was a new thing: She ought to be shocked, frightened by the cruelty, but her trained mind blocked her from the fear that would leave her paralyzed. Instead, Sakura lifted the patient's head, to inspect whether damage had been done to the face as well. She had to communicate with him, if he was still able to.

But when she met his eyes, her body froze. Black, darker than the night even, as onyx-colored as his peculiar hair and the pupil no longer discernible. Strong. Repellent. Lonely. They immobilized her as he stared right down into her soul, searching through her being without a care for her consent. It was violation, intimate and frightening. She felt his icy glare racing, shaking over her as he devoured her, like a predator its prey.

Yet nonetheless, she also felt warmth. Not from his eyes, but within her own body, rising quietly yet steadily. Like a blanket wrapping itself around her. Looking into his eyes, she felt... _home_.

Sakura shook her head to clear it; she did not know this man. And yet, as she looked back at him, she felt how she trusted him. Whatever his story was, whomever he might be - she wanted to help him. And not only because she was a doctor.

"... off..." She could barely hear his voice, released from the bloody, pale lips. Sakura bent forward, her ear directed towards his mouth. The man gulped, groaned, coughed, before he worked up the energy to speak again. "Piss... off..."

Sakura's frown deepened. _Did I hear him right?_ "I'm a doctor." She repeated it, in case he had not heard _her_ right.

"Don't... care..." The words left his mouth accompanied by a gush of blood sputtering over his chin and throat, but his eyes glared at her with more strength than she would credit a man in his state. Once more, he tried to push her away.

But Sakura was a doctor, no matter if he cared or not. With two skilled grips, she pressed his arms back, while at the same time pulling out her cell phone. She speed-dialed the number to the Konoha Hospital, and as soon as the line was picked up she ordered, "This is Haruno Sakura. Send an ambulance to Konoha 7-2 immediately. I found a man, stabbed and shot, in the alley behind the carpenter's workshop. I will provide first aid until you get here."

"Yes, Haruno-sensei," the voice at the other line answered. "7-2, right? We'll be on our way at once."

She closed the call and flung the phone away, trying to hold the struggling man down. "Keep still. If you move like that, you'll only lose more blood. I said keep still!" She had raised her voice without even realizing, and finally it started shaking in panic.

"And I said... piss off," he spat out between gritted teeth. There was a fire in his eyes, wild and unpredictable. With a force he was not supposed to have, he broke free from her grip and shoved against her, but his body failed him in the last second and his hands slid off, sending his head bumping against Sakura's chest.

The doctor wasted no second. She grabbed for her bag, drawing out the first-aid kit she always carried with her. Her fingers found the gauze and scissors, and with a twisting of her arm, she made the man fall into her lap. _I have to tie the worst wounds first._ An easy thought, but not as easy to follow through with; the lacerations were not as severe, she judged, but the gunshot lesions worried her. Two were close to his heart, another one near his stomach. If either region had been hit dead-on, all her help would be for naught.

She shook her head. _No, no, don't falter. I can save him. I will save him._ With a gulp, she suppressed the bile that was creeping up her throat and set to tying the gauze closely around his chest. Immediately, the white fabric turned red, but Sakura kept wrapping layer for layer until it was tight and secure. The man groaned, and the hands that had pushed her away just moments ago now clawed at her arms and back. His body could no longer hide its torment and his eyes were tightly shut. He convulsed.

Sakura bit her lip. "I will give you something against the pain. Hold still." She had to put the analgetic into the syringe first, and every second she took, another violent surge shook him.

"Finally," she breathed. His constant twitching made it hard for her to keep his arm still enough for the injection, but with a snatch of her hand did she manage. As she poured the medicine into his body, a scream left his mouth, resonating within her ears. "It'll be over soon," she tried to calm him down, but she was not sure whether he heard her beneath his calls of agony.

The sound of sirens was like music in her ears. Only seconds later, several emergency doctors hurried around the corner, a barrow behind them. "Haruno-san!" one of them called and fell onto his knees next to her. "What's his status?"

Sakura reported what little she knew. "We need to get him to the hospital immediately," she ended, stressing every syllable. At the same time, assistants heaved him onto the stretcher, one person fully busy keeping the wildly punching and screaming man still enough. Her stomach clenched. Shouldering her bad, she said, "I will take care of him. Take me with you."

"Haruno-san?" The doctor eyed her with doubt. "You just worked a fourteen-hour shift. It might be better if you take some rest and -"

"I will take care of him." There was no added stress on the words; the look in her eyes was enough to convince her colleague. With a nod, he ushered her to hurry after the team, and she had barely jumped into the ambulance that the driver started off and headed for the hospital. During the ride, her patient slowly calmed down as the painkillers seemed to kick in. But his forehead was drenched in sweat and the eyeballs behind his lids moved rapidly.

Intuitively, Sakura took hold of his hand, cold and clammy. "You'll be fine. We'll fix you, don't worry." But as her eyes were examining his unresponsive body, she did not know whether these words were meant for him or herself.


	3. Espial

For eight hours, she fought and struggled to keep the man she had found alive. The gunshot wounds were as bad as she had feared and the cuts even worse; according to the blood analysis, some sort of poison had entered his system through the lacerations, thinning his already meager supply of blood to the point of it running from all his entrances. He rejected most of the medicaments and painkillers she and the two surgeons used, unconsciously vomited all over himself and Sakura and thrashed so violently that the tubes were ripped from his veins. At one point, he awoke despite the anesthetics, Sakura tool-deep near his guts to remove a stuck bullet, and the scream that broke from his lips tore the air. It took four men to hold him still enough for her to inject a higher dose, and several minutes until he was comatose. Precious minutes she was unable to make up for, especially with him jerking in his slumber. And when his surges were over, he laid so still and quietly Sakura feared it was all over.

Then, his heart stopped. The monotonous, distinctive beep rang through her ears and shook her core, having her flip her head around to stare with wide, unbelieving eyes at the green, firm line that did not allow for a single heartbeat. Sweat coated her palms beneath the gloves, her lips dried out. "No..." Her voice was quiet, almost imperceptible beneath the bustling around her. "No. No, no, no, no. No!" Finally, it was a sharp cry and she turned back to her dead patient, his face completely white, his chest flat. Without a thought, she grabbed for his shoulders and shook him, uncaring for the surgeon who had one tool buried in the man's chest. "Wake up!" she bellowed.

"Haruno-san," the surgeon mumbled. His hands withdrew from the instruments, folded neatly in his lap and a look of sorrow crossed the brown eyes above the mask.

"Don't stop," Sakura ordered sharply, then twisted her face to glare at the young nurse in the corner. "You. Bring me the defibrillator."

The nurse paled. Her gray eyes darted to the unresponsive patient, to all the blood, to the screen blazoning his death. "Ha-haruno-sen-"

"Now!" Sakura barked with a voice that did not allow for denial. She began the manual heart massage, practically grabbed the defibrillator from the nurse's hands a few seconds later and clashed both plates against one another. "Ready?"

"Y-yes," the nurse replied.

"Go!" Sakura pressed the devices on his chest. It was risky, sending electric shocks through his body with open wounds – but technically, he was dead already.

 _No!_ She shook her head and pushed, a tremor shaking him. _He's not dead._

"Nothing," the nurse reported from her position next to the screen, but Sakura was already rubbing the plates and waited for the next load.

"Again."

She lost count of how often she said that. Again, again, again. Seconds stretched to minutes. The two surgeons watched her with sorry eyes, the nurse's voice was interrupted by helpless sobs, but Sakura refused to give up. Her emerald eyes were fixated on his face, waited for the flicker of life. He was alive, he had to be. She would not let him die.

"Again," she bellowed for what felt like the hundredth time. The nurse had long since stopped protesting and silently added more voltage to the metal Sakura was holding on to. She raised the defibrillators to push them down, but hesitated. Her eyes flickered over to his impassive visage once again, and the sight of its stillness broke something within her. She could not do it. She failed. He was dead. Had been dead since minutes and all she had been doing was trying to revive a corpse.

She only noticed she was crying when one of the surgeons placed a hand on her shoulder. He gave her a squeeze. "You did everything you could, Haruno-san. Let him go."

 _No…_ She forced herself to stare at his face, the brow so smooth, freed from all pain and worry. It was so different from the expression he had made a few hours ago. An expression he deserved to make during his lifetime.

She bit her lip and straightened her back. "One more time."

Behind her sounded a sigh, but no objections were raised. The nurse flicked on the device for a final time, and Sakura rubbed the plates against one another. When she spoke, it was to him alone.

"You're alive. I know you are. You're not the type of guy to give up and just die. You can't, you know? I won't allow it." Her eyes stung terribly in tears, but she let them flow. Allowed for them to infiltrate her voice. "Come back to us. Come back to me."

She pushed the defibrillator down to his chest, made his body twitch and jerk lifelessly – and the monitor beeped. And once more. And once more. The nurse gasped, the surgeons jumped to their feet with shocked expressions, and Sakura almost drowned in her tears. She fought through them and erected a smile no one could see. "This is far from over."

And it definitely was not, although she did not know _how_ they had done it. His heart gave out two more times, but Sakura brought him back without fail, forced him to stick through the procedure. They managed to pull him out of the dark, his heartbeat returned to a blissfully regular frequency and his blood's data normalized. The bullets were removed, the wounds cleaned, his flesh stitched and sealed and bandaged. She helped clean him at least roughly before he was transported into the cleansing rooms by a group of nurses, and looked after him with an exhausted expression. Her clothing was bloodied and dirtied beyond salvation, her body drenched in sweat – but _he_ was safe.

She barely noticed how her fellow doctors and surgeons congratulated her, or the umpteenth cup of coffee that was pressed into her hands. She was numb and weak, her eyes were crusted. A yawn fought its way up and for the first time Sakura allowed it. With sluggish steps, she trudged over to the doctors' mess, falling into the first bed in her blurred sight.

The rickety construction shook as her body plummeted against the feather-thin mattress, but to Sakura, the fusty smells rising up along with the particles from other doctors' body odors was the scent of heaven. Well, maybe not heaven. But compared to the mixture of blood, vomit, open flesh and disinfectant, it was the better choice.

 _Just a bit,_ she thought to herself, her mind already clouding with approaching sleep. _Just a couple of minutes of rest and I'll be good to go._ She did not dare to think about her next shift, due to start in an hour. There was no point in going home, so she could just as well spend the short amount of time in this relatively quiet room.

With an ear-deafening _bang_ , the door was slammed open. "Sakura!"

The called one stirred. "Hngh?" Her eyelids felt too heavy for her to raise them. She had _just_ laid down. Surely she could rest for one short minute.

But the person stomping over to her bed did not seem to think so. Uncaring, her shoulders were grabbed and shaken. "Sakura, open your eyes."

 _This is not fair._ Slowly, she pried her weighty lids open, feeling the crust splitting apart like glue. Her eyes refused to focus and Sakura had to blink several times before she recognized the person in front of her. A jolt went through her body. "Mom!"

Her mother's red-painted lips made a smile. "Hey, honey." The chief physician sat beside Sakura's sprawled-out body and the bed creaked considerably. "I heard from Shizune that you just spent eight hours fixing that guy up. You should have said something."

Sakura rose through the palms of her hands, trying not to fall back down. "But, Mom, you were busy with work! You already had a twelve hour shift going on and were in the midst of an emergency yourself. Besides, his condition was unstable, so there was no time-"

Her mother raised one hand and Sakura closed her mouth. With a deepening smile, the blonde woman said, "I know, I know. You are an independent doctor and don't need to come running to me with every cut your patients suffer from. But that doesn't mean I cannot be worried about you once in a while." After petting Sakura's leg once, her expression turned more serious. "You have been working for twenty-two hours, Sakura. That is no joke, especially considering the last couple of days. I found someone to cover your shift, at least until noon, so you should go home and rest."

Sakura was not sure what to say. Her mouth opened once or twice as she tried to stutter her gratitude or objection, when her mother marred her beautiful forehead with a frown and went on, "... is what I'd like to say. But before I can send you home so you get your well-deserved sleep, there is something we need to discuss." From the depths of her coat, she drew out a file and held it before Sakura. "It's about your patient."

This was more like the mother she knew. Sakura pinched the back of her nose once to gather her concentration – she knew she would need it – before she opened her green oculars to inspect the unfittingly light file.

"I can't say I didn't expect this," she mumbled after a look inside. A half-grin formed on her face as she lifted her eyes to meet the golden ones in front of her. "Then let us discuss this... Tsunade-sama."

* * *

Blackness clouded his mind. If he still had a body, he did not feel it. Maybe this was what the afterlife was like? He would not be too surprised to learn that he had died, not after the pain that had cursed his body. At first, he had tried to stop the gushing flow of blood, naturally. But there was only so much you can do as a laymen, so in the end, he had surrendered. It was not like it mattered anymore, anyway.

Still, it was strange. He had expected to receive some sense of fulfillment. Relief. _Peace_. But there had been nothing but emptiness within him, as it had been for years. Emptiness soon followed by agony as they shot and stabbed him. He could have fought them, of course. He would have won. But he had not really seen the point in that, so why bother? He was done. The hallucinations that plagued him before his death were enough of a prove.

And now, he was here – wherever _here_ was supposed to be. It was dark, which he liked. But it was a monotonous, unchanging type of darkness which he _dis_ liked, and after a while he began to ponder as to where he had ended up.

Heaven? No. It did not look much like that. Besides, he had not expected going to heaven anyway. That would have been a naïve, foolish thought, and he was no fool. People like him did not ascend to the heavens.

He would not have minded going to hell, though; from all he knew, that place was always _busy_. And who knows, it might have been fun, slaughtering other damned creatures. At the very least, it would not have been boring.

But of course there was no heaven or hell. Not for him. Instead, he was floating in this nothingness, which was both better and worse than other options. Some more time passed, time during which nothing happened and he grew weary of that. Surely _something_ was to occur? He could not imagine staying like this forever. More precisely, he did not want to imagine that.

A thought crossed his mind. Maybe this was his punishment. Maybe this was his reward. Gods – _if_ they existed – must have some weird sense of humor, anyway. Who was he to know what they thought? Who was he to judge whether it could have been better or worse? Maybe everyone ended up like that. Maybe no one did, and he had drawn a better lot. There was no knowing. And without a body, there was no changing that, either.

But as time continued to fly by and he completely lost track over whether it had been seconds or years, irritation won over. Whatever his 'judgment' was (provided that something like that had been passed upon him in the first place) he would not accept this. He flexed his hand as he tried to come up with a strategy on how to escape this punishment; the notion of it being some sort of reward had left him.

Wait – he flexed his _hand_? Now that he concentrated, he became aware of the rest of his body as well. His legs felt heavy and tired, his torso was aching all over and his head drummed like crazy.

A grin tugged at his exhausted lips. If he still had a body he could move – he drew his left leg close to his chest just to test that theory once more – then he could also leave this afterlife-state, which most likely was no afterlife after all. His closed eyes caught hold of a soft shimmer beyond his heavy lids, and from all he could guess, the world awaited him behind them.

For a moment, he hesitated. Was he going to make the wrong choice again? He was not ready for yet another failure, another letdown. Another surge of agonizing torture. Maybe staying where he was _was_ the better choice. He had only one regret left, after all – among all those countless others which he had shunned into a dark, inaccessible part of himself. It was just one thing, a minor action, really: locating a certain something. Tracking things and people was his specialty, and as such it was a disgrace he had never found it. But maybe he was not supposed to; maybe _that_ was his punishment for all his failures and flaws.

It would be a kind one, considering the wrongs he had done. Kind, and yet utterly cruel as the image and voice he could not shut out no matter how hard he tried made his heart bleed. There was no way he could shield himself from the accusations, the look of disappointment, the empty ache that turned his every waking moment into a walk through hell.

A mental look back at the darkness below him flung away his doubts. If _that_ was what happened to the dead, he wanted to postpone that experience as much as possible, like the coward he was. Even if it meant facing emptiness and pain once again. Even if it meant burdening the load that crushed him even further.

When he opened his eyes, he had half a mind to close them again. It was too bright. The luminous shine of a medical lamp beamed down on him, and he raised his hand to shield his oculars, ignoring the twinge in his ribcage. Breathing was difficult.

_I should have stayed dead._

His entire body felt defunct, his brain vibrated in a background roar and the tubes connected to his veins did not make him feel any better, either. They were _supposed_ to, he knew, but they just annoyed him. For him to open his eyes after the massacre that had been his murder was evidence enough he did not need anything like that anymore.

Pressing himself up onto his elbows, he looked around, his eyes squeezed almost shut. It was evidently a sick room. It _looked_ sick. The walls were clinically white, adorned with the occasional and compulsory bright, pseudo-positive picture, and the furniture matched the aseptic aura. A white bed with white sheets, a white cupboard and bed-side table, atop of which a neat letter he cast but a single glare, white machines, white curtains. Even the bathrobe-styled garment he was wearing was disgustingly white.

"Tch." He had never liked hospitals, or clinical sites of any sort. If he thought about it, he did not like institutions in general, no matter their purpose. For a moment, he critically eyed the hoses coming out from his body, wondering how much damage he would take if he just ripped them out, when the sound from an opening door made his head jerk up.

A woman, presumably a nurse or doctor, clad in reds and pinks – where was the obligatory mint-green uniform he found so sickening? - save for her white cloak, entered. There was no doubt about her wanting to inspect him, and he really did _not_ need that. If she dared to go against this clear wish of his, she would learn what true fear felt like; regardless of his lifeless body and soul. He heaved a silent sigh and readied a growl, when she turned from the door and a flush of unique, pink hair caught the unbelieving gaze of his obsidian eyes.

* * *

Sakura gave her patient, awake against the odds and even more so her expectations, a curious glance. _Did he just look at me funnily?_ Her jade oculars searched within his onyx ones, but the flicker of whatever it had been had already left, and the same hostility from four weeks ago returned. He would hiss any second, she was sure of it.

But for the moment, he only stared silently and Sakura took it as an opportunity to examine him in his wakeful state. She could not help but realize that the spiky wildness of his hair was apparently, against the laws of gravity and logic, natural, even when he had obviously just woken up. It framed his clean-cut face at either side in rough bangs, some strands cutting across his forehead and touching the rims of his eyes like threatening spears.

Again, she felt consumed by those eyes, endless pools of annihilatory black – except for the innermost ring, as she had discovered in awe during the operations. A voracious crimson circled his pupil, so dark that it seamlessly faded into the blacks on either edge, and yet vibrant enough to not go unnoticed. It was her first time witnessing central heterochromia in such extremes.

His eyes narrowed and Sakura ripped her attention from those undeniable focal points, allowing her gaze to see past his strong jaw and sharp nose and look for the details she needed to note. Cleaned of blood and fed with new one, his skin tone was still alarmingly pale. The tests clearly did not label him as anemic, so she either had to ascribe it to his pigmentation or the operation's after-effects. He had lost a few kilograms during his slumber, leaving his cheeks slightly hollowed despite constantly being nourished via tubes, and when he shifted his weight from one arm to the other and tore at his bandages, Sakura saw his eyebrow twitch. A surge of pity welled inside of her.

"Good afternoon," she chimed, approaching him with energetic, yet respectful steps. "I'm your executive internist, Haruno. You are in the Konoha Hospital, four weeks after being found shot and stabbed in an alleyway nearby. How are you feeling? Is there anything I can do for you?"

He stared. No – he _examined_ her. His straight eyebrows were drawn together atop his wary eyes, forming a line of irritation between them, but he said nothing. Silence spread. It engulfed the room like a giant gray cloud, weighed the air down and had Sakura's hairs rise. From the corridor, steps and chattering faintly echoed inside. The wind rattled against the window.

A drop of sweat traveled down her neck and her guts gave her the distinct urge to flee. She suppressed the need to shake her head. _What a silly thought,_ she scolded herself. _He must be terrified, after whatever happened to him. This requires gentleness._ She lifted her hands as a sign of friendly intent and slowly said, "Let me tell you first that your injuries are treated well and you're on your certain way to recovery. Are you in great pain? Or is there perhaps someone you want to see? I can try and contact them for you-"

"Leave." His voice was hoarse from disuse and yet it bore an edge of a silk-clad steel-sound, unlike the guttural growls he had antagonized her with four weeks ago. It was a harmony the likes of which Sakura heard for the first time, and it astounded her. Intrigued her. But not enough to mislead her over the adversity in his tone.

_Ah, playing the 'hard' type, huh? As if I didn't have enough of those..._

"If it's rest and peace you need, I will make sure no one bothers you," Sakura acquiesced with a nod. "However" - she raised one finger - "I can only do so _after_ we have discussed your person. You see, you carried no papers with you with which we could have confirmed your identity or medical background. At least none we could have accessed; your suitcase is firmly locked. It impeded your treatment and might hinder it even further. We don't want to complicate things, right? I promise to be quick about it." She gave him what was supposed to be an encouraging smile and raised clipboard and pen. "Let us start with simple things: What's your name?"

"Hn." One eyebrow quirked up as he did not even bother to glance at her utensils and a sneer lifted the right corner of his lips. "Persistent, aren't you."

Was it admiration or annoyance interlacing his voice? Sakura could not tell, but she decided she would pay it no mind. Instead, she gave a nod. "If it's to secure my patient's safety, then yes. Now, will you co-operate?" As her only answer was condescending silence, she added, "May I remind you that keeping a conscious patient without insurance is an illegal act and requires me to expel you from our facility?"

"You won't," he said, sounding as confident as one could be. "You are not that type of doctor, _Sakura_."

The way he spoke her name sent a shiver down her spine: His tongue danced along the consonants, elongating the initial sound like a warning hiss. His lips caressed the vowels as they left them, devouring the _'u'_ and pronouncing the two _'a'_ s like a breath of life. It was intimate and seducing, just like his glare that consumed her fully. And yet, the lowered tone of his voice and the sneer tugging at his labials took a part of the sensuality from the sound and transferred it into something temptingly dangerous. Sakura found herself gulping, her stomach set ablaze.

 _How does he know my name!?_ was the first thought that raced through her perplexed mind, still struggling to fight against the intensity of his call that lured her closer. In all her twenty-nine years, no one had ever pronounced her name like that. It left her shivering, disorientated and confused. Excited.

As she averted her eyes to gather herself, her peripheral vision caught the perimeter of her name tag and relief replaced a part of her helplessness. _Of course._ Sakura almost laughed at her own silliness. _Get a hold of yourself. It's nothing but plain rude to address someone by their first name when you've just met, regardless of how you say it. There's nothing more to it._ Shifting her position, Sakura inquired, "And what makes you think that, Nameless-san?"

Instead of a reply, her patient reached for the mechanics of his bed, raising the backrest until it stood at eighty degrees. He cupped his head in one palm and leaned back rather nonchalantly, keeping his eyes glued to her when he spoke, "Because I'm here."

"Huh?"

He gestured at himself. "If you truly cared about things like insurance, I would not be like this. I mean, look around." She followed the wave of his hand, eyes wandering over the clean, bright interior, the light and positive décor, but her front remained a crumbled frown, and she only tilted her head. Her opposite sighed and closed his lids. "Accommodated in a rather luxurious single bed, my belongings neatly stored in that bedside table to my right, a _handwritten_ letter on top which elucidates my situation and whereabouts politely, and" - he opened one of his eyes lazily - "you only inquired for my insurance _after_ you made sure I had no requests or concerns of my own. In other words: You are not the type of doctor who would expel me with injuries as bad as mine." The sneer formed again on his handsome face as he asked, "Do you need it in writing?"

 _Why, you..._ Sakura's hands formed angry fists. While his deduction was logical – and correct – in and of itself, she hated the aloof manner in which he presented it. She had taken him for a homeless at first, then a victim, but now she had a feeling he was neither. The way he had chosen to situate himself on the bed, his vocabulary and tone of voice suggested he was not only a man of authority and intellect, but an arrogant one at that.

Sakura blew air out of her nostrils. _Fine then. If he wants to be like that, so be it._ With just the hint of a polite smile, she said, "Well then, if you are so smart, you can surely tell me your name, or not?"

Within the fraction of a second, all signs of amusement left him and his face hardened along with his eyes. Like pools of the night, they took Sakura in as he gave her a long, critical look, and just when she thought he had decided not to answer her question again, he spoke curtly, "Uchiha Sasuke."

Sasuke.

_Sasuke._

The name resonated within her mind. For a moment, Sakura's world seemed to spin. She fought the urge to hold on to something when her feet gave in beneath her and stepped to the side. Her heart ached and she pressed the clipboard closer to her chest as unknown, yet strangely familiar images floated before her mind's eye, flashing so quickly she could not quite put them together.

_Wh-what's going on?!_

As she evaded and searched for his glance at the same time, she did not notice how the perimeter of his eyes narrowed ever so slightly, how he gripped the blanket upon her brief stumbling. She was too busy to panic over her sudden panic. She wanted to go home and rest. Surely she was overworked; there was no other explanation for the shivers running down her spine, for the bile creeping up her throat, for the desperate need to flee the room or run into his arms.

Closing her eyes shut, she intonated a mantra to calm herself. _I am whole and in control. I am whole and in control..._ Slowly, the confusing, frightening feeling faded, leaving her with wobbling legs, and she shook her head. _Mom was right. I need to take a proper rest one of these days. Maybe I should give Shikamaru a call._

Only reluctantly did she raise her gaze to meet her cold patient again. He still leaned against the backrest, one hand clasped behind his wild hair, the other resting atop the white sheets, and his intimidatingly fascinating eyes observed her attentively. "Need a doctor there, 'doctor' ?" She _saw_ the quotation marks in his voice.

 _Screw Shikamaru, I'll call Kakashi-sensei._ "No, I don't. Thank you for your concern," she snapped with a false smile. "I was just caught up in thought for a moment, trying to recall whether any patient every retained his name for so long. Apart from the deranged, of course." She was content to see his eyebrow twitch, and inner-Sakura – a remnant of her unstable teenager phase – roared, _'Shannaro! How d'you like that, huh, smart-ass?'_

Out loud, she simply continued, "But now, we're getting somewhere." She wrote the name down, lips pronouncing his name silently – and a sudden thought had her hit her palm with her fist. "Ah! 'Uchiha' as in _the_ Uchihas from the _Uchiha Inc._ which-"

"No." The answer came so quickly and sharply that Sakura made an involuntary step back. His eyes flared.

"I see. I'm sorry, I just thought-"

"You thought wrong," he interrupted her again with a glare to match his icy tone. The hand on his blanket had formed a veined fist.

A frown graced her brow and she muttered a rather irritated "Okay," as she made another note. "So no connection to one of Japan's most prestigious families. Is there someone with whom you _do_ share ties and would want to know of your predicament, then?"

It did not surprise, though definitely unnerve Sakura that he let a couple of seconds pass before he replied, staring oddly through her as he did. "No."

 _No one,_ her mind supplied. In her chest, her heart tightened at the stiffness that was his body when he uttered this devastating, ultimate answer, and all traces of her own adversity towards him vanished upon sincere compassion. Suddenly, she could make sense of the hostility surrounding him like a dark cloud, of the sneer that could creep up his impassive face any second. His shoulders were straight, his jaw tight and his entire being closed off. He was like her, eleven years ago.

For a second, she considered reaching out to him, to maybe take him into her arms and tell him that it would be okay. That one day, pain and loneliness would fade. But just as her lips parted, Sasuke brusquely turned away, and she knew her words would mean nothing to him.

As her eyes started to wet, Sakura flushed at herself. _Really, what is it with me today?_ She straightened her posture as her emerald gaze focused on her patient. "I'm sorry," she said and meant it. She approached the bed and, despite her knowing better, placed her palm on his knee. She even managed a smile.

Sasuke 's head snapped back to her. Something flickered in his obsidians. "Hn. You're annoying."

It took a second for the phrase to sink in, but when it did Sakura drew her hand back rapidly. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, a variation." Sasuke rolled his eyes before leaning towards her. "Do you spout such corny nonsense customarily, or did I just pick an unlucky day?" He waved her off. "I don't need your pity, Sakura."

"Well," she fired back, "you need my professional help whether you want it or not, _Sasuke_."

Had her own body not shivered violently at the pronunciation of his name, stirring something inside her she could not grasp, she would have noticed the jerk going through him. She would have seen how his fingers grabbed the blanket tightly, how his eyes ran over her lips like a starved animal as something within them broke.

But Sakura _was_ shaken up, too busy comprehending her own mysterious reactions than to notice, and her eyes only met his when the lightest hint of approval – or was it indifference? - shone at her. " 'I don't need it' – is what I'd like to say. But," he admitted with a discontented jerk to the hoses in his arms, "there is hardly any way to argue with that. Whether I want it or not," he echoed her words with a sneer that was closer to a grin. "So do your worst."

Her lips twitched, stupidly wanting to mimic the expression, but Sakura concealed it with a frown. "As long as you understand. Now, let me check on your progress. Undress your upper body, please."

Sasuke cocked an eyebrow up, but then he sighed and rolled his shoulders, shrugging off his robe with closed eyes like he could not be bothered with any of this.

Her stitching was still tight and secure, his bandages clean and white – except for the occasional drop of blood here and there. His weekly results had been satisfactory as well, and a breath of relief left Sakura's pink lips. Still, she ordered him to do some light exercises; very light ones, only checks of him being able to turn his body or flex his muscles. Despite not having used them for a month, he did fairly well, though she still ordered him to rest in bed some more. In a week or two, he could start with rehabilitation for his limbs. She did not consider it necessary to conduct the speech-test; he did well enough on that subject, occasionally snarling at her when she gave him a new motion to perform.

"You seem to recover well. Better than I had hoped, actually." She put down her stethoscope with which she had observed his strong heartbeat, conveniently ignoring the racing of her own, and scribbled some notes down into his file. The sight of its emptiness reminded Sakura of all the questions that still lingered, both in the official manual and from her own curiosity. "Well, Sasuke," she spoke up, well aware of his vigilance, "there are still some questions I would like to ask of you."

He rolled his eyes, combed through his messy fringe with one hand and captured her with his intense gaze. Sakura shuddered at the aloof hostility that radiated from him and found it hard to link it with the sarcastic, almost comic attitude he expressed verbally. _Maybe he_ is _deranged, to a degree?_ she wondered. Not in the sense of a pitiful person being unable to interact properly with the world around them, but rather in the way that a serial killer was insane. She huffed out a quiet snort. _Too many detective stories, lately. I should take up Ino's offer on one of those cheesy romances for a change._

"Then ask," her patient growled, leaning back with a wave of his hand. "But make it quick. As you _promised_." His voice bore a hard edge at that word.

She _decided_ not to lose her temper, tapping his file with her writing utensil. "Do you remember how you received those wounds?"

"I remember everything."

Sakura held her pen up, waiting impatiently for him to continue, and it took her a moment to realize he would not. It was sheer willpower that kept her from gnarling or relieving her frustration by hitting something. Preferably his arrogant face. "That tells me nothing, though." With more a grimace than a smile she added, "I am obliged to ask you this."

Finally, Sasuke glanced down on her clipboard. His eyes scolded it, as if it was responsible for the regulations being the way they were. "Occupational hazard."

"What?" Sakura gasped before she could stop herself.

Sasuke rolled his eyes again, ever so lightly, and leaned his head towards her. "Are you deaf or just stupid? It happened during work-"

"I heard you," Sakura interjected, her world threatening to spin again. Her pen laid on her lap, forgotten. Her feet itched. "What I meant is, what kind of work do you practice to end up like _this_?" She made a gesture that enclosed her patient in his entirety – his wounds as well as his mysterious behavior.

"Oh, that?" Sasuke sounded bored. He leaned over to his bedside table, his scarred back towards Sakura, and worked through his belongings, being just where he had predicted them to be. His hands found what they were searching for, and after some touches a _click_ occurred. A moment later he came back up and drew forth a compilation of neatly folded files, including his ID. Flicking them over at Sakura's lap, he sneered at her dumbfounded expression and waited only long enough for her to pick up the items before saying, "I'm a bounty killer."

Sakura could only stare. Her eyes had skimmed his ID that proved his name, age – two years older than her – and other trivial facts as his height and weight. Now, they were glued to the official paper that had his occupation, affiliated rights and information printed upon it.

 _Bounty killer._ The paper itself read 'bounty hunter', but as Sakura forced her eyes to rise and meet his dangerously empty ones, she carried no doubt as to why he had dubbed it. She did not need the paper to believe him. She did not need his injuries. The predatory glare ever-present in his obsidians, his toned body always ready to move and react even when he leaned back like now, the way he spoke to – _ordered -_ people. There was no second-guessing him.

 _He kills people for a living._ Sakura's body was shaking, and this time it was not the mysterious attraction she had felt earlier. It was fear. He was a man capable of killing – a man willed to destroy what she sought to protect. She felt sick, so very sick, and she only noticed how she had stood up when the pen _clack_ ed on the floor. Sasuke's eyes followed her every step as she slowly backed away.

"E-excuse me for a moment," she managed to speak, fighting against the disorientation within her. She had to hold on, at least long enough until she was for herself. Too much had happened since she had found him, too much had been revealed and she blamed herself for that – he had not wanted to disclose anything to her, and now she understood why. His silence made that much more sense and Sakura wished she could make him take back his papers, his words, himself. Finally, her fingers managed to fumble the door open, and with another hasty apology she fled the room, her face pale and struck.

Sasuke looked after Sakura, long after she had run from him. He stared at the door as if he could melt it down just like that, and his mouth was agape by only a little. Had she stayed behind the door and peeked on him, Sakura would have seen his onyx eyes scorching like hell pyre. She would have noticed his hands balled into fists so tightly that his nails poked into his skin and drew blood. She would have witnessed how he slumped and buried his agonized face within one bloody palm, clawing at his eyes that burned not only in fire but in tears.

She would have heard him whisper, "You really are... annoying."

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for my first author's note in this new version. This chapter will always hold a special place in my heart, for it marks the (new) beginning of their relationship. If you're an old reader, you will realize that the changes are few, but important; I raised everyone's age by a few years, added some scenes or paragraphs here and there and in general tried to make Sasuke a bit more relatable. It was never my intention to turn him into the typical cold, repellent guy, at least not without the twist he deserves. Whether you're old or new to this story, thank you so very much for stopping by to read. If you left me a word or two, it would be greatly appreciated; it let's me know that I am writing for people and not a mass of silent robots ;) Love, Ruska~


	4. Disquiet

Her escape ended in the doctor's mess. Sakura fell against the rickety bed with a sharp breath leaving her quavering lips, her knees vibrating from the impact and her hands grabbing the gray fabric like a saving rope. Her mind was a mess of incoherent, wild thoughts which raced through her head like a startled flock of deers. It took her awfully long to calm herself enough to form sensible units out of them, and even then one dominated them all.

 _He kills people._ The weight of that realization hit her and her skin went up on goosebumps, her throat was parched and her lungs burned at every breath she took. She did not notice how hard she gulped. He had not threatened her, and yet she could not have been more terrified.

Once more Sasuke's eyes, those intriguing, fascinating pools of the night, surfaced amidst her disoriented mind. Like a predator's they had consumed her from the very beginning, the only emotion openly seeping through them animosity. Bile crept up her throat at the remembrance of being alone in a room with him, and Sakura huddled her knees close to her chest.

It was silly, she knew. No matter his attitude towards people, he would not dare hurt her openly in a hospital like that. Sakura shook her head. _He doesn't have a reason, either. He wouldn't have..._ But a part of her was doubtful and her ears rang.

Mentally, she conjured his permit, recalling the exact phrasing to reassure her wildly thumping heart.

_'The Faculty and Board of Education, Bail and Law Enforcement in Tokyo, Japan, decree that Uchiha Sasuke has accomplished and fulfilled the requirements of three years of Bounty Hunter Agent training, pursuant to J.B.L.E 93-32-160. Uchiha Sasuke is hereby admitted the rights and privileges given by the city of Tokyo, including but not limited to the crossing of prefectural lines, carrying of specialized weaponry, use of appropriate force and authorized liquidation. Signed by Kujira Orochimaru, head of the Bounty Hunter Agency of Japan, Akatsuki.'_

Sakura thanked her photographic memory for saving those information since they gave her at least some sense of relief. As long as no one issued her assassination, people like Sasuke ought not scare her. But while she massaged her neck with one sweaty palm, Sakura had to admit that this was not the reason for her initial outbreak of horror.

 _He kills people._ The thought crossed her mind once again, and Sakura noticed how she had bitten her lip bloody. Hurriedly, she brushed over the torn flesh with the tip of her tongue, twitching at the stab of pain. Her hands were shaking, and she clasped them tightly as she tried to take deep, controlled breaths.

Yet the terror would not leave her. She met death and its harbingers on a daily basis, knew that life was limited and that there were people doomed to die despite her best efforts. More than once had she watched someone die who still had years and years of a promising future to live, while another killed himself deliberately with cigarettes. And still, nothing had ever terrified her more than Sasuke announcing his profession.

The flicker of a mad grin flashed across her face before she whimpered and hit her face against her clammy hands. "Why?! Why are you doing this, Sasuke? Killing people... Are you feeling no remorse? How could you? This is not you!" She was accusing the empty room with her broken voice, choked on the lack of oxygen. Her eyes burned and she froze.

' _Not you'? What am I saying? What am I feeling? Why... does it hurt so much?_

A memory struck through her head, of a time of similar feelings. Of a time of hurt, loneliness, emptiness. Where she had hung in a meaningless space with no way out, drowned by despair and pain. Where the world was too cruel and life too agonizing.

She did not understand why she remembered it now, of all times. This and that situation were completely different, and yet her heart felt ready to burst as it throbbed against her ribcage. Sakura pressed her hand against her mouth. There was only one possibility explaining the bile creeping up her throat.

"Who are you?" She whispered that question, afraid of the answer the naked walls might give. "Where do I know you from? Who are you, Uchiha Sasuke?"

A flash of blinding light against her lids, a stinging on her right temple. An explosion. Screams. Pain. Immediately, she covered her ears and began to shake, the tormenting question from eleven years ago persecuting her. "Who... am I?"

Sakura tore at her scalp, then shook her head fervently. "No, no, no, no. I am Haruno Sakura, twenty-nine years old. The youngest doctor in Konoha Hospital. Adopted by Senju Tsunade at the age of seventeen. My favorite color is red, my favorite meal is red bean dumplings and my favorite book..." She continued the list for as long as she could, naming every single thing she knew about herself until the storm dissipated and she could breathe normally again. Her mouth was filled with vomit and she staggered over to the sink to spit it out.

When she looked into the smeary mirror, her face was white. Dead. She sighed and splashed some water against it until her complexion reddened. _It has been a while since I had a breakdown. I almost forgot what it feels like._ She kneaded her neck and sat down on the bed behind her, counting her breaths.

 _This is stupid. There is no reason to assume he is someone from the past. If he were, he would have said something._ She nodded, content with that reasoning. _Yes. Sasuke and I are strangers. Strangers with completely opposite views, which is why we clash. Yes._

 _There is nothing to be afraid of. I am strong. I am stronger than anything. I decided long ago I will never give up, despite the evil in this world. No,_ she corrected and straightened her back, _because of the evil in this world._

She rose, balling her hands into tight fists until their shaking stopped. Sasuke rose in front of her mind's eye once again, the alluring beauty of his eyes luring her in, but she thrust the image aside. _Those are not eyes of kindness and love. They are the eyes of a murderer._

In the quietude and security of the room, the murderer going by the name of Sasuke lost all his appeal to her. Animosity similar to the one he exuded welled up inside of her, but Sakura exterminated that, too. _I am a doctor. He is my patient. No matter what he is or what he does, as long as he is in need I will help him. It is my duty. It is my calling. Regardless of how wrong he is or how much I detest him._

Something rattled against her heart, her memories. It was still painful. It was still frightening. She still had the senseless urge to cry at his chest and beg him to explain his mad ways, which was terrifying enough in and of its own. But Sakura was strong. She had always been, would always be. No matter what happened.

 _I don't care who you are, Uchiha Sasuke,_ she decided, her eyes burning intensely. _I don't care about these illogical feelings. I am Haruno Sakura, Senju Tsunade's daughter, and I will always uphold my duty._

She exited the quiet cabin with secure, strong strides as she headed straight back to the room of her patient, hesitating but for a moment before opening the door to his room rather vigorously.

"Excuse my sudden disappearance, but when you told me of your 'occupa-' huh?" Her voice halted abruptly as she found her patient lying still on the bed.

Sasuke had obviously decided to sleep. His face was averted from the door, his body stiff as stone; even her sudden, loud entrance had not awoken the man from his slumber, and when she tiptoed over to his side, she barely made out the soft rising and falling of his chest.

 _How can he be asleep at a time like this?!_ A vein on Sakura's temple was throbbing and she ground her teeth. _Just as I pulled myself together to give him some piece of mind._ She glowered, even though he could not see it, her emeralds observing his sleeping face. His mouth was open by the lightest gap to release soft exhales, his brow smooth and free from frowns of any kind, his eyes relaxed.

Before she knew it, she was examining his sleeping body with more attention than necessary. Her eyes followed the curve of his collarbone to the muscles visible beneath the pale skin spanned across his arms, attached to shoulders not too broad to be bulky, but strong enough to flick away any doubt of his sex. Behind his garb, his pectorals pressed against his skin, rising and falling with his even breaths, and the definition of his abdominals was deep, as if contoured by powder. His hands laid flat and relaxed atop his abdomen, and Sakura was amazed by the lean, elongated structure of his fingers. Without realizing what she was doing, Sakura reached out to trace the lines of his hand, her fingers trembling as they neared his pale skin.

His index finger twitched. Sakura gasped and jumped back, her gaze flipping to his face, which was smooth and calm and his eyes were closed. Her hands pressed against her thumping heart, Sakura respired and brushed over her forehead – only for said body part to flare in crimson.

 _What am I doing?!_ She took another jump backwards, voluntarily this time, and disgust twisted her expression as her stomach revolted. _Where is this attraction coming from?! I just told myself that he is a murderer and my professional duty lies above it all, so why..?_ Guilt and shame ran over her in equal parts, freezing the culpable blood inside her veins. _I don't understand this…_

Again, she found herself staring at his face which tugged at something in her heart she could not name. Sakura frowned. _Just… who are you exactly?_ Her eyes caught his file, lying on the stool next to his bed, and she remembered her initial and most pressing reason for being here. Casting aside her doubts and disquieting feelings, she set to work.

With him being asleep, examining his data proved more trustworthy. She pressed the stethoscope against his bare chest, one hand resting beside it, and listened attentively to his heartbeat. It roared in her ears as it pumped the blood within him in a steady rhythm. An observant look at the monitor next to him, softly beeping every so often, revealed additional information for her to note down.

 _He seems to be recovering well. It's a wonder, after those injuries._ Once more, she found herself wondering whether his healing was truly thanks to _her_ efforts. Forcefully, she shook her head. _Enough of this._ She scribbled down some instructions for the nurses, then rested the file in the fitting at the end of his bed with a metallic click. With her back turned to him, she firmly decided not to grant him another regard while she exited his room.

That way, she did not see him raising one hand to softly trace the area of flesh burning on his chest.

* * *

 _She's alive._ The thought circled endlessly in his throbbing head, and it took all of Sasuke's willpower not to jump from the bed. To hurry after her, take her fragile, small hand into his. To bury his nose in her pink, soft hair and inhale the flowery scent that was so uniquely hers. To gaze into her emerald eyes and confirm himself of the precarious reality that she was _there_.

Sakura closed the door, unaware of the shaking breath that left his lips. His chest ached where she had touched him, and he traced after the tingling sensation with trembling fingertips.

 _She's alive._ He could not believe it. When he had crawled through the maze of alleyways, bleeding and dying, and her voice had reached his thudding ears, he had been sure he was imagining it. It would not have been the first time he envisioned her, grown up, alive and well. When she had taken him into her arms, trying to hold his suffocating body still, he had cursed his inept senses and maddening spirit. When her hand held his in the endless ride to the hospital, he had been sure death was torturing him with a soothing image that both healed and hurt him. He had tried to muffle the desperately hopeful voice within him that wished for it to be true, for he had known fully well it could not be.

And then, she had opened the door to his sick room. Her pink hair, short and soft and sleek, had swept with the breeze she had let in, and his nose had caught the scent he had not smelled in years and yet had never forgotten, his eyes had seen the face that haunted his every dream.

 _She's alive._ He did not know how he had managed to keep his cool. How he had been able to refrain from embracing her tightly enough to shatter her delicate frame. Maybe because a part of him was unable to believe what his quavering eyes saw.

Sasuke clenched his jaw and forced his eyes to open. Deep down, he still feared he was imagining her after all. He almost _died –_ if that was not enough to force his mind to conjure the one and only thing that had ever mattered to him, he did not know what could.

 _She's alive._ Again, there was this burning sensation, and he angrily rubbed his eyes. With a growl, he sat up to look at the door she had disappeared into.

"Sakura." His tongue glided over her name in a tenderness he had not known to possess anymore. It felt good, so good, to speak her name in knowing she was alive. Again, the sensation of a sob threatened to choke him, but he bit it back. Disgraceful enough that he had cried earlier, he would not allow for it a second time. Tears were for the weak.

A sudden memory. A sharp sting of guilt. A face with a broken smile and blood trickling from the quivering lips.

A horrible mistake.

Sasuke slumped, clutched at his empty chest. Too much, it was too much, everything he had seen, everything that had happened, everything he had _done._ "Why?" he whispered to the empty room with a voice that was not his. "Why do I meet you _now_ , Sakura? Why not a month ago? Why do I always end up doing the wrong thing?!" His whispers had grown to a shout and he tore at the IV pole to his right until his arm burned and hurt and stung, the hoses fluttering wildly, and even then he did not stop. He deserved the pain. Deserved all the pain in the world.

 _Am I losing it? Is she really alive? Please, let her be, please,_ he begged with no one to address. A jolt went through his body and he retched. _Please don't, please let me be imagining things, I can't take this, if she's really alive then, then… I..._

With a broken sound, Sasuke grabbed a fistful of his raven hair. Faces floated before his eyes, and closing them was a futile fight for it was all etched inside his mind. One after the other, they rose to accuse him. Rightly so. There was nothing he could say against their allegations, he could only add to that, really.

 _I should have stayed dead,_ he mourned with a bloody lip. Suddenly, he jerked up, his onyxes wide and disbelieving. Sakura's face distinguished herself from all the others, hints of a smile nestled in the corners of her lips. Like a goddess she had descended upon him when he was at his low. Again. She lived.

He laughed. It was a dead sound, devoid of life and honesty, but a laugh nonetheless. _How dare I think of death when she has been returned to me? Pathetic._ Something hardened in his chest, and when the ghosts of his pasts and mistakes threatened to knock, he focused his energy and overflowing emotions on the path more known to him as he picked one particular face.

 _You lied._ He stared at the image, hate and wrath shoving aside the conflicting, incredulous feelings in his chest, his eyes dark and murderous. _All your pretty words, your crying and misery – lies. Stupid lies I swallowed whole. I'm an idiot._

Oh, the self-hatred. Now _that_ was a sentiment he knew well. Almost comforting, the way his skin crawled at himself, the urge to flee from his own presence. A morbid grin twisted his lips and he closed his abysmal eyes. _Shall we ever cross paths again, I will teach you my pain._

Thinking like this, in his usual tracks, helped him regain some of his insanity bordering on sanity. But even then, and even if he allowed for the tantalizing possibility to be truth that she was, contrary to his beliefs for eleven years, alive, there was one fact he could not ignore.

Despite Sakura living and breathing, she had obviously forgotten all about him. And even though he had a fairly good idea of _why_ he had been erased from her memory, it did not do anything to alleviate his anguish, and the ghoulish grin died.

 _She forgot. Everything._ The realization hit him like a train. Seventeen years which meant the world to him had vanished into nothingness. His only reason for existing, both prior and after their separation, was now like a dream he had dreamt alone.

 _Alone._ The word echoed inside his hollow head and Sasuke slumped forward. _Have I… been the only one who thought of us like that?_ His empty eyes flickered over to his bedside table. _If she has forgotten about me so easily…_

It took long – too long – before he shook his head. She was alive. It was all that mattered. At least that was the lie he told himself as he buried the doubts and torment and sealed it deep within.

* * *

Eyes of honey hurried over the file. With every additional line, her eyebrows drew closer together until they almost met, and at the end she pulled out her hidden stash of _sake_ , poured herself an all-too generous cup which she downed in one go and immediately refilled it. But as the sour beverage touched her painted lips for the second time, Tsunade halted. She glowered at the liquid, then growled and set it down.

Again, she read the file. It was still unsatisfactorily empty, but remarkably more filled than just a few hours before. As expected of her daughter. Tsunade rested her chin in her hand and bit on the nail of her thumb, if only to keep herself from drinking. _After everything I've done… I thought it was perfect._ Her foot drummed against the flooring in impatient taps, her fingers slowly crumbled the file beneath them.

 _How… How? How?!_ She rose from her seat and banged her fist on the table, letting out a roar that had her assistant knock and enter with a worried face.

"Tsunade-sama, are you alright? I could've sworn I heard you- hey, is that _sake_?!" The black-haired woman dashed forward and grabbed for both bottle and cup before Tsunade could preempt her. Not that she had wasted any thought about that. "It _is_. Tsunade-sama, how often have we discussed this now? Please limit your irresponsible alcohol consumption to days off duty and-" The woman stopped mid-lecture and noticed the visible bump in her master's desk. Her fine brows furrowed and she made but two steps forward, elongating the silence until Tsunade was no longer steaming in fury. Only when the blonde sat down with a deep, agonized sigh did Shizune speak up, as quietly and calmly as possible. "What happened?"

Instead of a reply, the head physician flicked the file which Sakura had brought her before calling it a day over for her assistant to to scrutinize at. The raven-haired woman did so, and after just one line she inhaled sharply. Her eyes flickered up, honest concern sharpening their black. "Tsunade-sama, this is..."

"Yes," Tsunade replied curtly, crossing her arms in front of her grand chest. "It is. He has come again."

Shizune flattened out her uniform in front of her stomach, an old habit which died hard. "Does Sakura know?"

Now, Tsunade's lips curled into a dead sneer. "Of course not. There is no reason for her to know."

"But, Tsunade-sama..."

"I will dispose of him as I did once already." She turned to the window front framing the eastern side of her room with a determined gleam in her eyes, set firmly on a spot in the distance. Her gaze did not falter when she said, "But, do me a favor, Shizune. Keep an eye on Sakura when she is around that… abomination."

Shizune opened her mouth twice without saying anything. Her eyes stared intense holes into Tsunade's back, but when the blonde did not turn, her assistant merely inclined her head and muttered, "Understood, Tsunade-sama." But as she exited the room, she could not help but throw a final, concerned glance back, her eyebrows drawing up helplessly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter within which old readers should note big changes. Sasuke's scene is longer and goes into more depth, both plot and character-wise. The scene with Tsunade and Shizune at the end is completely new. We are building up the drama which is going to explode in the next chapter. There, you will have a completely new SasuSaku moment, which, at least from my point of view, tugs harshly at the heart strings. So look forward to it ;) I'll send virtual cookies to everyone who writes a review! Love, Ruska~


	5. Afire

"Aren't you a bit too young to be a doctor, _Sakura_?"

One of these days, she would throw something into his face. Her fists. A table. A very hard volleyball, wherever she would get it from. Sakura furrowed her brows and glared at Sasuke, who was sporting the sneer that seemed to be plastered onto his face whenever he was not glowering. She let out a puff of air and crossed her arms. "Evidently not, _Sasuke._ " Too bad her voice was not able to bear this edge of condescension and arrogance that dripped so naturally from his. "Or do you think I'm just a nurse playing doctor?"

"Hn. Who knows? How old can you be? Twenty-eight?"

"Twenty-nine," she corrected through her teeth. She slammed the syringe into his vein and noted with satisfaction the pained grunt that sprung from his lips. "Think what you will. It doesn't change a thing."

The man growled. His abysmal eyes devoured her and sent a shiver down her spine, but instead of replying he sunk back into the bed, seemingly not caring for the blood she drew from his arm in a pace just a _tad_ faster than prescribed. But when she almost yanked the needle away, he winced and gave her a judging look. "You must be a nurse. Only nurses are so inept at taking blood."

"And you would know?" Despite her words, Sakura flushed in embarrassment. A sting of guilt made her wrap the clear adhesive around the puncture and cotton ball more gently than she had initially intended.

Sasuke cocked an eyebrow up. "Naturally."

"Naturally," she echoed under her breath. "Guess a bounty hunter is a regular at the hospital?"

Now, he frowned. "Only the bad ones-" His frown deepened when he realized the implication, his eyes gave a glare.

Sakura almost chuckled spitefully, but she covered the sound with a clearing of her throat. "We wouldn't have to constantly re-open your veins if you let me install a catheter."

"I'm not an electronic product you _install_ things into," he snapped. "I said 'no' to the catheter how many times now? Five? Are you deaf or just stupid? How did you even become a doctor like that?"

The insult did not lose its sting even if he repeated it. Sakura scowled. She almost ripped the robe off his chest and pressed the ice-cold stethoscope against his fair skin, grinning to herself when he hissed. "Deep breaths now, Sasuke." His muscles moved beneath her fingers, spanned against her touch, and for a second she blushed. Determinately, Sakura bit her cheek and spoke over her thumping heart, "I'll have you know that I graduated with top grades from medical school."

Something flickered in Sasuke's eyes. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. Then, almost tentatively were it not for the edge his voice bore permanently, "And how old were you?"

"Twenty-four," Sakura replied. She stepped back from his exposed body and grabbed the file, her eyes running over his test results and the nurses' comments. "I had been performing my residency training simultaneously in my second and final year of med school and continued in several departments until I received my board certification in internal medicine half a year ago."

"Second and final year of medical school?" Sasuke echoed with a doubtful frown.

"Yes," Sakura preempted him before he could annoy her further as she scribbled down a handful of notes concerning his diet and exercise. "I finished in half of the time. Similarly, I was through with undergraduate and bachelor early. So you can rest assured that you are in best hands." Her smile was sour at best, and Sasuke's expression only reflected that.

He gave her a long look, eyed the blue bruise on his right arm and then moved his oculars back towards her. Silence. She would have moved away, but the intensity of his regard would not let her. "Hn. Now, aren't we aspirational? I wonder whatever has you so afire for your profession."

 _Choke on your self-assured sounds, bastard._ She chucked the file to the side and sat down with a sigh. There were still some questions left unanswered, even with him having been conscious for three days now, and she dreaded raising them. But she had no choice, and even though Shizune had offered several times to relieve her of this bothersome patient, she had decided to be responsible for him. Even if he was a murderer.

"How are your wounds?"

"Why don't you tell me, _doctor_?"

"I meant to ask how they _feel_ ," Sakura elaborated. "Data alone doesn't tell me enough about your status."

The man shrugged. "I'm alive. The tablets you have me take eliminate the pain well enough. My temperature is normal, as is my heartbeat. I can chew, swallow and digest the abominations you call food and serve here, and when the nurse comes to help me stretch my upper body, I can send her away because I don't need her help." Another shrug. "Is that enough?"

 _No, it's not,_ Sakura thought with aggravation. "A very medical, objective explanation. But how are you _feeling_? I will be frank. You were brutally attacked and died thrice during the operation." She imagined he pricked up his ears at that. "While taking care of your physical well-being is my priority, your mental state is just as much my concern."

He raised an eyebrow. "You want to know whether I'm having a trauma or shock?"

Delicate words. So, so delicate words, and Sakura hated them. There was a reason she usually allocated mental care to the psychologist one floor below. But she only needed to remind herself of his file and the nurses' comments which read _'Does not communicate nor respond to questions'_ to cast that idea aside. So instead, she nodded. "Yes."

"Tch." It almost sounded like a dismissive laugh. "You know nothing of a bounty hunter's training, then. Something like this won't make me lose it."

"But it should." Sakura was trying not to raise her voice, but could not keep it from shaking. "Every normal human being would be terrified. The way you were attacked… The way _I suppose_ you were attacked, because you have not told me anything about it at all." She forced her eyes to keep contact with his dangerously empty ones. As if her words and the memory meant nothing to him. "I need to know more about this. Who assaulted you? Why? Through which means? How long did the attack last? What did you feel during that time?"

"Nothing." It was the answer she had dreaded all this time, and Sasuke presented it as if they were talking about the weather. His facial muscles did not move when he continued, "I am entitled and also urged to retain those information and details. They have no relation to your work, so pay it no mind. You can be satisfied with the apparent fact that I suffer no trauma nor shock from the fight."

"How can you call it a fight?!" Sakura jumped from her stool without a thought and her voice was louder than it should be. But as she looked at Sasuke's terribly neutral eyes, she could not help it. "Everything we can conduct from your wounds and status during the operation suggests that it was no _fight_ , but an assault! You bore no signs of resistance whatsoever, else your arms and hands would have been damaged a lot more severely. The cuts across your torso indicate how you just _let it happen_!" She drew a quivering breath and shook her head. The step she took towards him was small, timid. "Why? Why would you let someone hurt you like that without fighting back? Why were you crawling through the alleys instead of using your perfectly fine cellphone to call an ambulance? Why did you push me away when I tried to help you? Sasuke!" She yelled his name as an accusation to focus his attention on her; as if he was not staring at her with wide, unbelieving eyes already. The next question left her only quietly, shyly. Like it did not want to be heard. "Were you trying to die?"

There. Just for a second, his eyes evaded hers. It shattered all her efforts and hopes, and above everything else it _hurt_. Sakura could not explain why, but her heart clenched and she felt every time it pumped blood through her body.

 _So you did,_ she thought with a gulp. _You tried to die._

"Are you done?" His voice was flat. No, not only flat; it was cold. Angry? Hateful. The wide-eyed stare had made place for an impassive look that seemed to see through her.

Sakura made a step back. "I..."

"You annoy me." Sasuke spoke so slowly that she could not miss his words even if she tried. "Your pity and interest in me is annoying. A true doctor would respect her patient's privacy instead of pestering him the way you pester me. Shouldn't you be happy I'm not in shock? Wouldn't that allow you to tick off one more concern from your list? Why are _you_ the one yelling?" He paused for a second. Took her in with his abysmal eyes. Devoured her raw soul until Sakura felt naked and vulnerable. "What are _you_ feeling, Sakura?"

She did not know, and that was the scary part. Sakura was staring in silence, way too long for her to somehow squirm free of his words. All she knew was that the thought of Sasuke deliberately throwing away his own life pained her more than it should. And that she felt guilty for having saved him. Not because she wondered whether he had wanted to be saved, but because of what he was and everything he stood for. And she felt even more guilty for feeling that way.

His stare set her ablaze. His lips opened to release another question she did not want to hear. She needed him to stop, so she spouted the first thing that crossed her mind. "Why are you so afraid?"

Sasuke's eyes narrowed. "Huh?"

"All I am trying to do is help you. Even though we clearly don't get along, I am working my ass off for you. Who do you think has paid for your stay before we were able to sort things out with your insurance?"

_Sakura, shut up._

"When you died during the operation, the others gave up on you. You had bled so much, we were running out of infusions to give you because you kept expulsing them, we still hadn't removed all the bullets or sealed all the wounds and your heart kept still despite several tries with the defibrillator. They wanted to shut the machines down. Note you as 'deceased'. Send your corpse to the morgue. But I insisted on going on!"

_Sakura._

"And when you woke up after only four weeks already, I was trying so hard to be nice to you, to take away your fear even though you scared me. Even when you told me what you do, I insisted on staying your executive physician."

_Stop it._

"So why are you like this?!" She had stingy tears in her eyes, her face was flushed deep red and yet the words would not stop. "What have I done to you that you react this way? Why are you nagging and biting and snarling whatever I do? What is wrong with you?! And why do I even care?!"

 _Sakura!_ Finally, her inner voice was heard and Sakura stopped, clasping her hands over her mouth with shocked eyes. But the words were out, he had heard every single one of them, and now his eyes were hidden behind the spiky fringe.

_Oh, what have I done…_

She knew she had to say something. Anything. Apologize, first and foremost, because he had been right. No matter his evident psychological problems, _she_ was the doctor here, the bigger person. She was supposed to deal with and take care of him. He was not the first patient who angered her, though he was undeniably the first to do it in such extremes. But that was no excuse, and a brief flickering look to the spreading bruise on his arm reminded Sakura of how much she had messed up.

"Sasuke..." she tried, but her voice was a meek and pathetic thing, drowned by the growl suddenly springing from his lips.

"Leave."

She had heard this twice before. Once in a slight variation the first time they met, with him trying to shake her off despite nearly dying in her arms. And then after he had woken up and laid eyes on her. It had been the first word he ever spoke to her consciously.

_He must really hate me._

Sakura gulped. She made a step forward, one hand at her chest, trying to clasp for something that was not there. "Sasuke, listen, I..."

"I told you to leave!" he barked. Despite him paling at the try, he stemmed himself up, swung his legs from the bed and threatened to rise. "What are you thinking, you idiotic woman?! You have no idea-"

"Don't get up!" Sakura panicked and jumped forward, pressing him down even though he thrashed against her. His skin was warm, his scent invading her, but even though her heart skipped a beat she had no time to wonder about it. Sasuke shoved her away with a growl in his ribcage, vibrating against her own. But if he got up now, he would easily collapse, and she had to prevent that from happening at all costs. "Calm down! Please!" And for lack of a better idea, she slung her arms around him.

Immediately, all movement ceased from his body. No sound left his lips. He was frozen, like a statue, and Sakura did not dare let go of him to check up on his face. Instead, her lips began to form words rising from the bottom of her heart. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I said horrible things and I… I'm sorry. Please don't try to get up. You need rest. I'll leave immediately, once you lay down. So rest, okay? Please?"

He did not answer. Instead, she felt his arms rise. She wanted to question his action, back away so he had the space he obviously needed – and then, he hugged her. One of his hands cradled her head, pressed it softly against his neck and she did not resist. She heard him breathe against her ear, felt how his other hand curled around her waist. Noticed how he stroke some strands of her hair, feather-lightly.

_Wh-what?_

Heat rose from her stomach and shot up her throat. Her heart burned. Every pump thudded against her ears. Her skin went up in goosebumps. And her grip around him tightened. The motions came naturally to her, like an instinct. One of her palms traveled upwards to nestle between his shoulder blades, fitting perfectly. Her other hand cupped his strong shoulder, fingers curling around the skin and muscle. She moved the tips across the membrane, burning with the sensation and barely resisting the urge to knead and grasp tightly. Her nose was pressed against the tendons in his throat, and from that rose an enticing, familiar scent that clouded her mind. A sigh left her lips, and she could not help but lean against him, melt against the frame that felt as if she had known it for her entire life.

His lips released a shuddering breath. Again, he stroke her hair, more strongly this time, up and down, fingertips massaging her scalp and leaving a tingling response along her skin and in her stomach. He pulled her hips close until she almost sat on his lap, and yet it was not close enough, there was still too much space between them, so he lowered his head against hers, his cheek resting on her temple, and a quiet sound spilled from his mouth.

Sakura closed her eyes. She absorbed the warmth that radiated of his chest and neck, hummed against his soothing touch. All her irritation, anger and fear dissipated as if it had never existed in the first place. In his arms, she was at peace. She felt like she belonged there, had always belonged there. It was familiar in a way that made her heart ache and stir. The only coherent thought that could surface amidst her entranced mind was how she did not want it to end. Ever.

"Sakura..." He mumbled her name with a tone of voice she had never heard from him before. It was soft. Tender. A murmur, almost lost in her pink strands, and he moved his head until his lips rested against her red ear. "Sakura..." His mouth moved further, scraped along her jaw and cheek, the tip of his nose tickling her skin.

Instinctively, she raised her head and took a sharp inhale. His lips hovered before hers. The fascinating eyes were hooded. He was close, so close. His scent was all she could smell, his body heat all she could feel, his hot breath against her mouth all she could taste and her eyes threatened to flutter closed. Her heartbeat was thumping in her ears, pulsated through her entire body. Heat pooled in her stomach and she unknowingly wet her lips, a sound sitting on them she could not identify. She leaned forward -

\- and Sasuke leaned back. Just a bit so their eyes could meet with enough distance to make out the other's expression. He wanted to say something, she could tell, his eyes sought for confirmation within hers. But when his breath left her mouth, the spell broke.

Something shattered, and as emeralds gazed up into fathomless onyxes, Sakura regained control of her mind. Almost immediately, her face flared up in crimson shades, and she jerked back, the only part left touching him her fingertips which refused to be removed, glued to his hot skin.

A shadow crossed his eyes. His hand disentangled itself from her locks, the other released her waist. Her skin prickled, ached for his touch. She had to fight the urge to throw herself back at him against logic and reason, to place her head back into the crook where it had been before, beneath his jaw and lightly above his collarbone. To follow the unspoken invitation his lips were offering, agape by a little and still in a held breath.

But then, Sasuke stirred. Leaned away from her completely and erected the facade she had caught a glimpse behind. His voice was throaty, and he did not look into her eyes. "You should go, Sakura."

And she fled.

* * *

"How unlike you to come over on such short notice." Shikamaru looked down at her past his sharp nose, his hand ushered her inside.

Sakura gave him a sheepish smile. "Sorry, sorry. I just... needed someone to talk to."

"Hm." With an automatic movement, he helped Sakura out of her light cardigan – an item she wore more for the looks and less for the temperature – and hung it next to the door. After pointing for her to go into the living room, he disappeared into the kitchen briefly to come back with a tray of nettle tea. Settling down before her, he took a small sip before asking, "Well?"

Sakura's head snapped back from admiring the spacious and well-kept garden outside of the small house and she looked at Shikamaru with eyes of concern. There was no pretentious smile on her lips – she knew she did not need it in front of him. A hundred possible phrases were sitting at the tip of her tongue and fought for recognition. She chose the most innocuous one. "My gun-shot patient woke up."

"Ah, him?" Shikamaru started to place the shogi pieces atop of the table. "That's good to hear, I guess. A bit early, though."

"Very early." Sakura furrowed her brows. "I would not have expected him to wake up for at least another month. He seems to be stable enough, though I'd rather he doesn't get up for a couple of weeks. It's a miracle, really." She was blabbering, she noticed herself.

But Shikamaru just nodded. It was one of his most admirable traits; he was not the type to rush or chastise. He motioned for her to begin the match and Sakura obliged. Silence ensued. It was only interrupted by the soft _click_ ing of pieces set against the wooden table, or the sound of teacups placed back against their trivets. Slowly the storm within her heart settled. While Shikamaru rested his fingertips against each other – his typical thinking pose – Sakura found peace and calm in observing the garden, its lush green grass, tall trees, trimmed bushes and colorful flowers. Her mind began to fill with thoughts of possible moves instead of worries and confusion about a certain troublesome man.

 _I really like this place,_ Sakura acknowledged. The nettle tea, despite heating up her already warm self, was pleasing on the tongue and cleansing to her body. _It reminds me of the good old days. Mom was so shocked_ _when I told her I'd visit a man seven years older on my own._ The tiniest chuckle broke from Sakura's lips, but Shikamaru was used to her occasionally wandering thoughts and paid it no mind.

 _Well, I can't say I blame her – I was nineteen at that time._ Still, the notion of Shikamaru doing anything _obscene_ toward her was so absurd it made her close her eyes in quiet laughter.

The man lifted his head, his eyes glistening in gray-brown alertness, and after a little twitch of his lips to acknowledge her bemusement he said, "So? Want to tell me a bit more about your patient?"

She opened her mouth. Then hesitated. Where was she supposed to begin? Thinking about the event a few hours back was enough to set her cheeks ablaze, her stomach tingled nervously and she frowned to herself. _Just what had gotten into me at that time? I mean, the 'hug' I gave him was necessary. He would have tried to stand otherwise. But everything that followed…_

Sakura shook her head. She could not even _think_ about the way they had held on to one another. About how her heart had raced and her mind nearly blacked out. No matter how she twist and turned it, she _had_ reciprocated his touches, his embrace. And then, in that final moment when his face had been so close that she could count the raven lashes framing his enthralling eyes, they-

"Sakura." Shikamaru's voice cut through her thoughts like a whip, though much more gentle. "I can't read your mind. You should know that by now."

Another sheepish smile tugged at her lips and she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "Sorry. It's just… I don't know where to start."

"How about at the beginning?"

She almost laughed at the frank obviousness. But it helped. "Right after he woke up, we had a fight. We constantly have fights." Her opposite raised an eyebrow and she reluctantly elaborated, reciting tidbits of their conversation. The day he had woken up and snarled her name, how he constantly questioned her accountability, his mockery. After her initial hesitation, Sakura talked herself into a near rage, going into vivid detail about his arrogant body language and condescending attitude. She moved on to this noon's conversation and explained how _confused_ she felt at his obvious indifference towards the assault, how it had angered her and how she had yelled at him. All the while, Shikamaru listened attentively, not raising a single question nor making a sound.

But then, when she got to the point where he had tried to stand, her voice died. Her face was red and got redder still, and she stared mutely at her third cup of tea.

Shikamaru sighed. "I see." He took another casual sip from his drink, swirling the cup around as he thought.

"She'll get mad at you if you spill it." The words left Sakura's lips without much of a thought, and she gave a weak smile.

Shikamaru glared up. "Tch. You women are all so troublesome." Nonetheless, he put the cup down, and his gaze wandered to peer at the garden. "So he's an arrogant idiot," he said with a bored expression. "And? It's not like you constantly deal with saints. Though I'll admit he takes the cake."

"Right?" Sakura sought for confirmation and sighed. "I don't even know why I get so worked up about him. There's just… something."

"Something?"

She could not tell him. Not only because his 'occupation' froze the blood in her veins. She had sworn an oath; her patient's secrets were her secrets. Her hands shook and her stomach burned with an intensity that made her want to vomit. She shuddered.

Suddenly, Shikamaru got up. He casually strode to the blinds and closed them against the lovely afternoon sun, then wandered over to the door and locked it with a _click_. Then, he sat before her again, took a pointed sip from his drink and Sakura remembered.

" _You can tell me everything. Always."_

She nodded to herself. _If there is one person I can tell about Sasuke… can tell everything about Sasuke, it's him._ She felt guilty. This would mark the second time she would make use of Shikamaru's discretion; the first having been an alcoholic mother who, through her irresponsible behavior, drove her children into depression and drug addiction. During that night, she had cried in his arms because she could not help them.

She hoped she would not have to resort to that again. Before her strength left her, she pressed forth through gritted teeth, "He kills people."

The sip got stuck in Shikamaru's throat. He coughed several times, then, wiping his mouth with a tissue, he carefully looked her up and down and asked, "Are you sure?"

"He told me." Sakura's voice was hoarse. "On the first day, he showed me his papers. His license reads _Bounty Hunter_ , but he himself dubbed it _Bounty Killer_."

Her opposite frowned. "'Are you joking?' - is what I'd ask. But that's not your joking face." He heaved a sigh and scratched the back of his head, the spiky ponytail atop of it sent into a wiggle. "Now that's a rare occupation."

A snort broke from Sakura's lips. "Yeah – 'occupation'." She shook her head, and anger replaced part of her horror. "He is my exact opposite, Shikamaru. I try to save people, and he kills them. I… saved a murderer's life."

"Hm." Shikamaru took another sip. "I see. In that case, it's no wonder you hate his guts. Assuming he has spoken the truth."

"You think he lied?"

He shrugged. "Maybe."

"What about his papers?"

"Forged?" When she frowned and shook her head, Shikamaru sighed. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling. "I don't know, Sakura. From all you told me, he sounds much like the personified arrogance. It could be just his way of appearing tougher than he actually is."

Sakura contemplated her friend's words for a moment. _He does have a point. But..._ She shook her head. "No. He's not that type of person."

Shikamaru raised his eyebrows. "Can you truly tell that already? You just met him."

"I know," Sakura agreed. But something within her suddenly dissented, her heart raced, her mind was a blur of incoherent images and her eyes became wet without a warning. A shudder made her body tremble and she bit her lip. Again, she remembered their embrace. The need to hold on to him. The moment they almost kissed.

"Sakura?" Shikamaru frowned, his voice interlaced by worry. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head and pressed one hand against her temple. "I don't know… Today, we… _hugged_." She made it sound like a disease. "When he was about to stand up, I threw my arms around him so he wouldn't, and then we… Well" - she made a vague motion with her hand - "we stayed like that."

Shikamaru's eyes narrowed. "What did he do?"

"He hugged me. For real, I mean." She blushed madly, and her voice stuttered when she gave the details she tried to forget. "He stroke my hair. Cradled my head. Pulled me closer to him and… mumbled my name." Her ears must have been bright red by then, but Shikamaru's silence encouraged her to go on, so she explained how his lips had wandered across her cheek and halted before her own. "We… almost kissed," she ended weakly. She was ashamed, though she did not know why. Definitely not because of the rule that prohibited relationships between patients and doctors.

For a while, her friend said nothing. His fingers were playing with a shogi piece. When he spoke, his voice was different. "Do you think he is from… back then?"

She gave a shrug, shook her head, nodded, and gave a grunt before she buried her face in her arms, propped up on her knees. "I don't know! I can't know," she added quietly. "Maybe? But wouldn't he say something then? It's not like I have changed much since I was seventeen."

"Except for the hair." It was a meek try at lightening the mood, but Sakura granted him a smile nonetheless. The man tugged at his trademark ponytail and exhaled loudly. "But yes, you're right. It's unlikely he knows you from before and chooses not to say anything. You still carry your late parents' name and have quite the memorable appearance. But what other explanations do you have? That your serial murder patient developed a serious crush on you?" He shook his head. "That might explain _his_ behavior, but not yours."

Sakura nodded. "He doesn't look anything like my ex, either. And he's not _that_ handsome." Shikamaru gave her _that_ look and she corrected, "Okay. Maybe he is. But I had handsome patients before and I never felt the need to hug them. Or be hugged by them. Or whatever." She grunted again, wailed a bit even, and accepted the fourth cup of tea with a sigh. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Shikamaru stayed next to her, and even though it was not his typical behavior, he rubbed her back.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I must look really pathetic. Maybe I should just ask him."

Shikamaru looked at her sharply. "But you haven't yet. Why?"

"You know why," she shot back. But she spelled it out nonetheless, because they both needed it. "I'm scared."

They sighed simultaneously. Shikamaru took a sip from his drink and Sakura mimicked the motion. A _click_ when the man set up his next move on the board she had almost forgotten. She took a second to consider the game, if only to divert her attention, and after a few moves, Shikamaru left her side and sat down on the other side again. At least her eyes were not stinging treacherously anymore.

"And what do I do now?" Her question echoed in the quiet room.

"You don't have many options, really. 'Talk to him about it' would be one, but you don't want that. 'Ignore the feelings and wait until he's gone' is the other, but I somewhat doubt it'll satisfy you. Though it would definitely be the best." Shikamaru frowned, reconsidered the piece he was about to set down and chose a different spot. "'Wait and see what happens' is the last one. Maybe he'll speak up."

She faintly noticed her mistake when she moved her rook, but it was too late and she barely cared, anyway. "So you think he's from before my adoption?"

He gave her a quick glance. "It doesn't matter what I think. And honestly, it doesn't even matter if he is. It all comes down to how you two deal with it. Maybe his mind is so off the hooks that he confuses you with someone he killed."

Sakura flicked a piece at him. "Very funny, Shikamaru."

"For fun you'd have to go to Naruto's," he deadpanned. "Though I heard he bruised his arm again, so the yo-yo's out of the question."

She almost chuckled at that remark. "I just don't… know how to deal with him. If only he did not call my name like that; every time he does, it makes me lose my mind." She forced a laugh. "The way I'm saying it sounds so wrong."

"Sounds like you were in love with him," Shikamaru stated plainly. Sakura's head jerked up, her face suddenly, treacherously, blushing, but the man already raised his hands. "I said 'sounds' and 'were'. No need to get all angry at me." He sighed. "Really, with that temper you're almost as bad as my wife."

"What did you say?"

Shikamaru winced. "Speak of the devil," he muttered under his breath. He used the sofa behind him as leverage to rise and trudged over to the locked door from behind of which the voice had sounded. He cast Sakura a final, confirming glance, and unlocked after a nod.

Immediately, Temari poured into the room. She slung one arm around his neck and grinned widely, though not without a hint of aggravation as Shikamaru snuck out of her grip and sat down. "Seriously, I leave the house for a couple of hours and my husband badmouths me?"

"I could badmouth you even if you just left to take a shower," he pointed out, his expression caught between a grin and a raised eyebrow.

Temari pinched his cheek – quite forcefully, judging by the howl leaving Shikamaru's lips – then she turned her blonde head with the four ponytails to their guest. "Hi, Sakura, how have you been? I hope Shikamaru hasn't bored you too much in my absence?"

Sakura chuckled. "Not at all."

"If he does, tell me," Temari insisted, pulling a sitting pillow close to rest next to her husband, who was rubbing his cheek and muttered 'troublesome'. "It's not too late to punch some manners into his thick head."

Shikamaru glared at his wife. "I like myself the way I am, thank you."

"Of course you do," Temari said with a theatrical sigh and pushed him off to grin at Sakura, "So, you're in love? Who's the lucky-"

"No!" Sakura protested, her ears burning. For a moment, her green eyes flared like wildfire, causing Shikamaru to shrink under her accusing look, and she almost stuttered in hastiness when she explained the situation properly. The only thing she left out was Sasuke's occupation; this was an information reserved solely for Shikamaru and her files.

"I see. Jeez, you shouldn't say such misleading things, Shikamaru." Temari gave her husband – who seemed utterly disinterested – a glare, then turned back to Sakura with a frown. "Still, I don't get why this should be a problem. He'll leave the hospital eventually, and if he's too much of a pain to deal with, just pass him onto another doctor."

Sakura shook her head. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I... I feel responsible for him," she admitted. Her sigh came in sync with Shikamaru's, and she gave her dark-haired friend a surprised look. "What?"

He pointed at her with her former rook, an item he had been playing with while Temari had given her advice. "That attitude's gonna end you sooner or later, Sakura. You always get too attached to your patients. That one time, for example – the man with lung cancer."

Sakura winced at the mere memory. Temari nudged her husband reproachfully and Shikamaru went on with a softer tone, "It almost killed you as much as him. Heck, even I started feeling bad for him, from your talking. No, don't you apologize," he preempted Sakura when she parted her lips. "You know I don't mind listening to your troubles."

"Thank you, Shikamaru," Sakura mumbled, a sad smile twisting her lips. She exchanged a brief glance with Temari, who knew at least roughly the depth of information the two shared, and the blonde inclined her head.

But Shikamaru waved her gratitude away. "What I'm getting at is this: You are one of the hardest-working doctors I know, and while this is usually good for your patients, it can end up badly for you. Especially when you have a case like _him_ , you should distance yourself." He crossed his arms and gave her a challenging look with his narrow eyes. "You cannot save everyone, Sakura. But you _can_ protect yourself."

She sighed. "How often have we talked about this now, Shikamaru?"

"How often do I need to tell you for you to understand?" he shot back, and his surfacing grin was met with one of hers.

Defensively, she lifted her palms. "I know, I know. And you're probably right."

"Probably?"

"Probably," she reinforced her statement. "Accept it, Shikamaru; despite your brains, you cannot _always_ be right."

"I second that," Temari smirked, purposefully ignoring her husband's glare.

Shikamaru snorted, "Maybe. But it looks like it's my win again." He motioned at the board, and Sakura gasped upon finding herself checkmated.

"When did you..?" she whispered in surprise.

"That's what you get for getting too involved with your patients." He leaned back, obviously pleased with himself, and one of his arms curled around his chuckling wife.

Sakura pouted, but there was a smile tugging at her lips as well. "Really, Shikamaru, you make it sound as if _I'm_ the one in the wrong here."

Shikamaru's gray-brown eyes narrowed lightly. "Maybe you are. But there's no point going in circles with you. Just do what you think is right." With another snort, he added, "Not like you wouldn't."

Sakura grinned, removing her king from the board as a sign of defeat. "Exactly. And now, rematch. I won't leave before I've beaten you."

* * *

It took her two more matches to hold true to her words. After watching them play for a while, Temari had excused herself and retreated into her study, occasionally coming down to hand the two players some beverages and snacks. Every time she did, Sakura had to smile to herself.

 _Temari might still be blunt and out-spoken, but ever since she and Shikamaru got married, she has become softer._ Her green eyes met Temari's teal ones, and the woman with the sand-colored hair cocked an eyebrow up.

"You don't like chestnuts?" she asked, referring to the small bowl she had just placed next to the board.

"No, no, I like them! Thank you, Temari."

Her response was a brief grin. Temari turned to leave, her fingertips sliding across Shikamaru's shoulder, and the man, his brow furrowed in concentration, released his left hand to hold on to her fleeting fingers even if it was just for a moment. The sight alone was enough to make Sakura smile again.

Darkness was settling outside when Sakura finally rose, her legs stiff from all the sitting, and she dreadfully remembered how she had to wake up early the next morning. And with that, she also remembered her patient, and she unconsciously gnawed her bottom lip.

"Stop that," Shikamaru lectured her with crossed arms.

"What? Oh, sorry." Sakura released her lip with a guilty smile, and her friend heaved a sigh.

"Is it really bothering you that much?" Shikamaru's voice had an unbelieving tone woven within it, and when Sakura gave a small nod he sighed once again. His hand retreated from the cardigan he had intended on giving back to her, and instead took hold of her shoulder.

"Listen," he said intently. "It's okay to block him off. It's okay if you don't want to treat him anymore. You already saved his life – you don't owe him any friendship or guidance. If it unnerves you so much, it's not worth it."

Sakura worked up a smile. "I know. It's just that..." Her voice died out, and Shikamaru narrowed his eyes.

"Just that?"

"I can't explain it," she finally said with a helpless shrug. Her skin was covered in goosebumps, and she shuddered.

Shikamaru reached past her and drew forth her cardigan, placing it around her shoulders in one grand motion. "Damn June nights and its sudden cold." He gave the outside a glare – though both knew it was not responsible for Sakura's prickling skin. "Shall I give you a ride? It's quite a way to your apartment."

"No, no. Thanks, but I'll be fine. The fresh air might help clear my head."

Shikamaru lifted an eyebrow, doubt plain visible on his comely face. But instead of insisting on it, he gave Sakura a brief hug and then watched her disappear into the night silently, standing still as stone. As he crumbled his brow, he said, "What do you think?"

Behind him, Temari pursed her lips. "So you heard me?" She rose from her tip-toeing position and rested her head on his shoulder. "I'm on your side on the matter," she said after a thoughtful pause, knowing exactly what was going on inside her husband's mind without him explaining it. "They might know one another, they might not. The most important thing is how they deal with it. Though, considering how scared she had always been, I'd rather he was just some random guy she has a huge attraction to."

"Right?" Shikamaru said, stroking the hands his wife had slung around his mid.

"She seems especially frightened of him," she continued. "I don't know what you were talking about before I came and I will not ask you about it. That's a thing between the two of you. But from the way she acts, I really don't feel good about this."

"Hm." Shikamaru's eyes gleamed with intensity as he stared into the dark. Then he turned. "Let's go inside, I don't want you to catch a cold; you were up and out the entire day already."

Temari grinned smugly at him. "Ho, are you _worried_? Maybe you want to carry me up to the bedroom, huh?" She spread her arms, encouraging him to pick her up with a challenging – even mocking – smile, but Shikamaru just snorted and shoved her inside.

Before he closed the door and went after Temari, who walked ahead with a swinging of her hips he knew all too well, he shot a last look after Sakura, no longer discernible in the setting night. His lips were a tight line and, as if his wife was still listening, he said, "In the end, it doesn't matter whether we feel good about it or not. It won't change the truth."

* * *

Sasuke did not move his head when the nurse entered. It was dark outside and his dinner consisted of a gray mush of _something_ they euphemistically called rice pudding. He ran his spoon across the mess and could _smell_ the amounts of sugar inside it. _Another night without food_ , he judged.

The woman cleaned the last remnants of his lunch away and proceeded to check up on his bedding when she gasped. "Uchiha-san, what has happened to your arm?!" She turned on the light above his bed, as if the blue and black bruise in the crook of his right arm was not visible enough. "This looks bad. Did Haruno-sensei hurt you during the blood extraction?" Her fingers reached out to take hold of the arm, but Sasuke shrugged her off.

His eyes glared daggers her way. "I forgot to press the cotton on the puncture." Said cotton crunched in the pocket of his robe and he reminded himself to flush it down the toilet once this woman was gone. "The doctor told me about it, but I couldn't be arsed. Now leave me alone already." It was the first time he talked to one of the nurses.

She stiffened and made a quick step back. "Y-yes, Uchiha-san. I'm sorry. Ring for us, should you need anything." With another bow, she left the room.

Sasuke rose. He could only take small, careful steps, holding on to a silly walking frame, but he made his way to the toilet and dumped both his 'meal' and the ball of cotton into the ceramic bowl. He tried to ignore the horrific pain in his right arm as he laid down and instead guided his mind to the situation a few hours before. Her hair. Her skin. Her scent. Her lips.

That night, he cried again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. I've longed to upload this chapter ever since I finished it. Fun Fact: The SasuSaku scene was not planned. At all. But as I was trying to work out their fight and give Sakura a proper reason to complain at Shika's, this happened, and I have to admit I am quite fond of it. It is dramatic, filled with emotions and hopefully reflects just how much both of them are suffering, despite Sakura having no concrete idea about what's going on. The ShikaSaku scene also got revamped, presenting a slightly more empathetic Shikamaru. Something about the thought of the two of them being best friends really appeals to me. But what about you? How did you like this chapter, the kiss that almost happened? Every reviewer gets a special place in my heart and will receive digital cookies and hugs. The next chapter will not take long to upload; and then, you get to see Sasuke's point of view concerning the whole ordeal - and him making an agonizing decision. ~Ruska


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